One Thousand Days
by WordsConsumeHer
Summary: Waking from a coma completely bereft of magic, Severus struggles to survive in the post-war world.  Will he turn away the one person who can help him survive? SS/HP slash. NC-17.
1. Up From the Depths

_Disclaimer: Anything recognizable from the Harry Potter universe does not belong to me, but to J.K Rowling and a bunch of really rich publishers and film production companies. I make no money from writing this or any other fanfic. _

..._beep...beep...beep...beep..._

The steady pulse crept into his consciousness slowly. He knew he'd heard something similar to that before, but he wasn't sure where.

..._beep...beep...beep...beep..._

The sound was muffled; he felt like he was underwater. He tried desperately to focus on it, to drag himself out of his foggy state. That beep was a beacon, a guide; something to pull him from the depths.

He concentrated, allowing the sound to come into focus._...beep...beep...beep...beep..._

The fog was slowly lifting, but his brain felt muddy and slow. _Focus_, he begged himself, _where are you?_

He had no idea.

He didn't have much to go on aside from a strange astringent smell. He couldn't place it, but it smelled unpleasantly sterile. It was an unnatural smell; chemical certainly.

What else did he know?

He knew he couldn't move, that was for sure. As far as he could figure he was lying supine somewhere, in what he could only presume was a bed. His skin was covered in some kind of fabric, but his face and neck were both exposed. He tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn't listen; his lids resting heavily over his onyx spheres. With a concerted effort, the man attempted to move his legs, his feet, even just to wiggle a toe. Nothing.

He sighed.

"Did you hear that?" exclaimed a shocked voice.

His mind jumped, snapping to full focus.

"Hear what?" came another, somewhat familiar, male voice.

"I could have sworn I just heard him sigh."

He heard footsteps approaching him.

"I think you're hearing what you want to hear," came the second voice, softly, yet drenched in scepticism. The second voice was slightly higher and silkier than the first. _God__, __it's familiar_...

"No, I'm positive, I heard something." The first voice was firm. "And honestly, doesn't he look like he has more colour?"

The silky voice snorted "Colour? The man's idea of a tan is going from 'alabaster' to 'porcelain'."

"You should talk," the first voice said harshly. "You're like the Aryan race poster child. You could pass for albino as long as nobody looked at your eyes."

There was a huff of indignation.

"Seriously," continued the first voice, "You're so pale you're practically reflective. If you ever went on a tropical vacation, you would blind the locals-"

"Shut up, Potter, I get your point."

_Potter... Potter...__That's __supposed to mean something... something really important._

Desperate to communicate, the man in the bed focused all his attention to his breathing. It seemed to be the one thing he had any control over. He sighed again, as deeply as he possibly could. It made his lungs ache.

"_There_!" said the first voice, urgently, "I told you, something was different. Maybe he's waking up."

"Harry-" the silky second voice said.

_Harry? _An alarm went off in the man's head. Visions came at him fast and hard. A boy in glasses- a child, really- staring into a cauldron. A gold and red tie. A flash of crimson riding on a broomstick, narrowly escaping an angry dragon. A lightning shaped scar on his forehead. A white, ethereal stag charging from the tip of a young man's wand.

His mind was assaulted with detached images; his heart began to pound in his chest, almost painfully. _Harry, Harry... Harry. _

He shuddered.

"Something's happening," said the first man urgently, "Draco, look, he's twitching. Call the Grangers, now!"

Hurried footsteps across the floor, the creak of a door opening. He focused hard on these things, willing his eyes to open.

A hand touched his, warm and firm. "Professor? Professor? Are you there? Can you open your eyes?" The voice was desperate.

He directed all the concentration on the hand. On _his_ hand. A shock like electricity ran up his arm, and then he felt the warmth of fingers touching his own. Gathering what little strength he had , the man tried to channel it all into his index finger.

It twitched.

There was a gasp from beside him.

_Move the finger, move the hand. Move anything. Communicate! _He begged his body to obey him, and slowly he felt his finger curl around the soft hand.

"Professor..." the voice cracked. "I'm here, please... open your eyes."

A clamour in the room. Lots of footsteps. _Two sets, no wait... maybe three._"What's happening?" asked a new voice, a woman's.

"I'm not sure" said the voice beside him "He sighed, deeply twice. Then he started to twitch, and now-" the hand squeezed his; he managed a feeble squeeze back.

"My god, is he waking up?" asked the unfamiliar female voice.

_I'm trying my best, woman! _He thought, as if his words would somehow penetrate her mind.

He concentrated on his breathing, willing his lips and tongue to move. Everything was so dry and sore. He forced a breath out, trying to form it into words; it was barely a wheeze.

The hand squeezed his more tightly, with silent encouragement.

_Try again. _He focused, feeling his lips twist in an attempt to shape the word. His eyelids flickered feebly until he managed to force them open, just slightly more than a crack.

"Harry...?"

The room went silent. Somehow his quiet utterance of one man's name had calmed the calamity that had surrounded him. He forced his eyes open again, but had to shut them immediately; the light was absolutely blinding.

"Draco, the lights!" commanded the voice beside him. Hurried footsteps, then a soft _click_.

"It's okay," soothed the voice, _Harry's voice_. "You're at the Grangers'. They've been taking care of you for ... a while".

_Why did he hesitate when he said 'a while'? How long have I been here?_

He forced his eyes open again and looked at the face hovering over him in the dim light. Everything was blurry, but he could make out a shock of black hair and glasses. _Rectangular glasses... wait, that's not right_.

He continued to search the face that was slowly swimming into focus. It was Harry Potter, that was for sure, but something seemed so… off. He couldn't place it.

The young man in front of him smiled broadly, relief written all over his handsome features. Disarmingly green eyes flickered as he seemed to blink back something. Tears? That seemed strange. "Do you know who you are?" Harry asked, his voice breaking slightly.

The man in the bed took a deep breath and managed a feeble scowl "Of course," came the barely audible reply, "I'm Severus Snape."

Snape watched at the young man's face nearly melted with relief. "Really, Potter…" he wheezed, "compose yourself."

Harry laughed as the tears he had been holding back streamed down his face. Droplets of saline caught in the dark stubble on his cheek, catching the daylight that crept in from around the blinds on the windows.

Snape feebly attempted another scowl.

He looked about the room he was in, his vision still slightly hazy. It was a clean room with two large windows over which opaque white curtains had been drawn. There was a large wardrobe at the foot of his bed, and a stand which had a black rectangular object on it. He frowned as he searched his mind for the appropriate word. _Television. _That's it, it was a television.

There were two large, well stuffed chairs across from the television, and that was about the extent of the objects he recognized in the room.

A middle aged woman with strangely familiar, unruly auburn hair was standing in front of a smaller television-like device that was mounted to a chrome pole.

..._beep...beep...beep..._

Ahhh, so that's what that sound had been. Red, blue and green lines crossed the screen, flanked by a seemingly random assortment of numbers. Strings ran from the machine to the bed where he was laying. He started when he realized those threads were attached to his chest.

Harry must have noticed his confusion. "It's Muggle medicine," he explained slowly. "After the attack, potions and incantations didn't seem to help you. You were taken to a Muggle hospital where they patched you up as best they could." He gestured to the perplexing number of tubes and wires that were running out of Snape's body. "These machines have been keeping you alive since."

Severus watched as the strange woman walked to the head of the bed where she fiddled with another machine on another pole. It held a bag of clear fluid that dripped into a small tube, which, he noticed in disgust, seemed to be implanted in his arm. A tiny amount of blood seemed to be flowing out of his arm and backing into the tube. It turned his stomach. _How utterly barbaric._

"It's an intravenous drip," the woman explained, "it's been hydrating you and providing you with any necessary medications since you've been here. You'll also notice that there's a tube in your nose that goes into your stomach. That's how we've been feeding you"

Snape twitched his lip and felt a second piece of tape that held the feeding tube in place. He could feel the tube continue through his nasal cavity and down the back of his throat. _That certainly explains the discomfort. I thought I had just swallowed a blast-ended skrewt._

"I'm Jean," the woman said smiling "Jean Granger, Hermione's mother."

Upon closer inspection, there was no mistaking the resemblance. Aside from the auburn and utterly unruly hair, her warm eyes sparkled with a familiar kindness and intelligence.

"Jean and her husband took you in," explained Harry. "They're dentists, but dentists are doctors, and they're the parents of a witch, so they seemed to be the safest choice." Snape felt the hand squeeze his again as Harry smiled comfortingly.

Jean smiled warmly. "It's good to see you up. I'll let the boys have a few minutes with you and come back to check on your later."

Severus inclined his head in the slightest of nods. _Merlin, why was such a small gesture as that so difficult? _He licked his lips and tried to speak again "St. Mungo's..?"

Harry shot a look back to Draco, who somehow paled. _Well this can't be good news._

The Malfoy boy pulled both the chairs up to the side of the bed so he and Harry could sit down.

Draco took a deep breath. "There are some things that you need to know, and they might be a little bit shocking." He paused, "I'm not sure how much you remember."

_Voldemort, the final battle, the Elder Wand, the snake_. The images came rushing forward in an unrelenting mass, pummelling him mercilessly. His eyelids slammed shut as if to block them out. Bile rose in his dry throat; he would have thrown up if he were physically able. Snape felt Harry's hand squeeze his in gentle reassurance.

"Nagini." He forced the whisper.

Draco nodded, "Yes. Voldemort set her on your because he believed you needed to die so he could master the Elder Wand. He didn't realize it at the time, but the true master of the wand was me."

Snape nodded; he remembered.

Malfoy continued, his voice cracking slightly, "You saved my life," he said shakily, "and I thought I'd never get to actually thank you."

Snape watched in wonder as the boy's cool, sculpted face crumpled. Draco covered his face with his elegant hands and wept silently, unable to speak any more.

Harry continued for him. "After the battle, which we obviously won, since we're sitting here, Aurors found you still alive. I mean, _barely _alive," he emphasized, "but you were there. You'd bled out a lot, but it looks like you'd taken some kind of anti-venom and blood replenishing potions to prevent yourself from completely exsanguinating. We patched you up as best we could, and got you to St. Mungo's. The healers tried their best, but potions and magical remedies didn't seem to be working."

Harry bit his lip and shook his head before continuing. "You weren't getting any better. In fact, many of the standard healing potions seemed to edge you closer to the brink of death. Your body was rejecting everything." He paused, allowing Snape to take it all in."Muggle medicine was Hermione's idea. We took you to a hospital, and they kept you for a while."

Severus arched one eyebrow in puzzlement, "A while?"

Harry nodded, slowly. "You were in a coma. You could breathe on your own, but that was about it. After some time, they agreed you were stable enough to be released to the care of the Grangers. They've been looking after you ever since."

Draco had finally composed himself enough to speak. "We come visit you a lot," he said, softly. "Between Hermione, Harry and I, someone's been here every day."

Snape looked at the platinum haired youth; there was something different about him, too. What was it? He looked healthier than Snape had ever seen him. He was no longer drawn and sickly, but there was something more to it than that. His face looked wider, his eyes seemed... wiser.

Snape looked back at Harry with alarm. _No, it can't be_, he thought, frantically. Harry's shoulders were so _broad,_and even sitting he seemed so _tall._

_So much older._

Snape's eyes went wide with alarm. "How long?" he whispered.

The boys looked at each other, panic clearly written on both their faces. "It's doesn't matter-" Draco began.

"How. Long?" Snape repeated, using what little strength he had to instill his voice with cold rage. "Weeks?"

Harry flinched uncomfortably "Professor-"

"Months?"

_Please don't tell me I've been in a coma for months._

He looked back at Harry, trying desperately to read his face. Black bangs flopped onto the young man's forehead as he looked down to avoid his professor's gaze.

"How many months, Potter?" Snape cringed at the sound of defeat and resignation that had crept into his own voice.

Harry took a deep breath. Severus watched his green eyes fill with sadness as he spoke, "Thirty-three."

Every fibre of Snape's being froze.

_Thirty-three._

_Thirty-three months._

_Two point seven years._

Around him, the machines started to chime frantically; alerting everyone around of the patient's distress. Severus didn't even notice; the sounds muddled together into a thick ooze that failed to penetrate his mind. The room swirled around him as his consciousness slipped into the blackness that had held him captive for the past 142 weeks.

A cool cloth wiped his forehead. He could feel it catching loose tendrils of hair.

..._beep...beep...beep...beep..._

_Oh... fuck._

It wasn't a dream. He was here, in a bed, awakened after almost three years in a coma.

Three years.

_It's 2001._

Black eyes shot open in alarm.

"It's okay," soothed a voice. Snape looked to the woman above him, the one who was so gently mopping his brow with the cool cloth. _Jean._

"You've been sleeping, you had an awful lot to deal with yesterday."

_Yesterday? _Confusion marred his features as he looked at Hermione's mother. She set the cloth back down into a dish of water, and pushed his damp hair off of his forehead.

"How are you feeling?"

Snape ran a dry tongue over his lips. "Thirsty."

Jean nodded. "Okay, I'm going to sit you up, yeah? Just relax, the bed is going to move." She reached down to press a button which elevated the upper half of his bed. Hydraulics hummed underneath his mattress; it was an odd feeling. Wizards were not used to dealing with things so... mechanical. Jean lifted a glass of cool water to his lips and he sighed with relief as the first refreshing sips ran down his parched throat. He raised his hand to take the glass from her, but could barely lift his arm an inch off the bed.

"Atrophy." Jean explained, gently. "You have a fair bit of muscle loss, and the muscles you've kept haven't been used in almost 3 years. It will take some time and rehabilitation to get them back." She smiled reassuringly, "But they will come back, Mr. Snape, I assure you."

"Severus," the man corrected, hoarsely. "After all this, formalities seem a little excessive."

"Very well, Severus." She said, patting his shoulder with affection. "It is a rather elegant name, isn't it? It would be a shame not to use it. Now, Hermione, Draco and Harry are all at work but they'll be popping in afterwards if you're up to it. I'm sure you have many unanswered questions. In the meantime, let's discuss your recovery."

Severus listened to the woman speak, but most of what she said was lost on him. Muggle rehabilitation was a long and confusing process which sounded enormously difficult. His brows knit together as he tried to make sense of the entire ordeal. Truthfully, he still didn't understand why he couldn't just take a restorative potion and be up and walking in a week. What was it Harry had said about potions and spells not working on him?

_Must have been poorly brewed potions, _he assured himself. _Probably something concocted by an idiot. __Or worse, _he shuddered inwardly, _a Longbottom. _The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that this "rehabilitation" would be completely unnecessary. After all, he'd lost enough time hadn't he?

By the end of the day, Jean had removed the feeding tube from his nose, a process which felt akin to being turned inside out. He cringed as he thought about what having his catheter removed was going to feel like; he could only assume something like vivisection, or maybe the Cruciatus curse. He'd endured _Crucio _before, but that had never been aimed specifically at his manly bits.

In such a short time, Severus had come to trust Jean implicitly. Whether it was her kind voice or sureness of hands, he couldn't be entirely certain. Grudgingly, he even allowed her to bathe him and wash his hair.

As she sponged him down, gently but professionally, he took in the feeble figure that was now his body. His hands, which had always boasted long slender fingers, looked like they belonged on a man twice his age. Ugly blue veins extended from his skin, which seemed papery and almost translucent. His arms were stick-like protruberances jutting from his bony shoulders.

Severus could clearly count each of his ribs, although his hair was now so long that it covered most of them when it was laid out on his chest. His hips looked sharp enough to cut through his skin and what little fat he'd had on his abdomen had been broken down and absorbed. Snape smirked as Jean carefully washed his groin: although he'd never had a reason to worry about appearances in that particular area, his shrunken frame accentuated one of his favourite features nicely. _Silver lining to everything, I suppose._

She had just finished up and was tying his shiny black locks into a smooth ponytail when Hermione, Harry and Draco arrived.

"Professor!" the young woman squealed, running forward to embrace his frail body. "I can't believe you're awake!"

Snape grunted under the tight embrace of the young woman, but he didn't have the strength (_or heart, _he reluctantly admitted to himself) to peel his former student off of him.

"Well hello to you, too, Granger," he rasped, as she released him from her grasp and sat down on the edge of his bed.

The two boys pulled chairs up to his bedside and sat down, grinning.

"You look so much better." Harry noted, happily.

Severus snorted. "I'm sure that wasn't hard, considering you've practically been staring at a drooling corpse for the better part of three years."

He regarded each of his former students in turn. It was odd to him how they all looked so much older, so much more mature. Hermione had become even more beautiful in the past few years, her heart shaped face now framed by long straight hair with swept bangs. She had traded in her denim and trainers for slacks and high heels, and her shapely torso boasted a soft wool sweater instead of her standard issue hoodie.

Draco's face had lost the hollowness Severus remembered; apparently life without the Dark Lord in his house was treating him well. He was wearing a steel grey suit which complimented his eyes, and a forest green silk tie which he had loosened slightly.

Hermione and Draco's professional attire was countered by their friend. Harry had arrived in workboots and wide-legged jeans that were caked in mud well above the ankle. A green plaid quilted jacket sat loosely across his broad shoulders, and laid open to reveal a dirt-smeared white t-shirt. Three-days growth graced his face, a contrast to Draco's perfectly smooth countenance. Smiling, Severus noted that Harry had finally traded in his ridiculous round glasses for a simple, black wire rectangular frame.

"You look old," he told the trio bluntly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and kissed her professor's cheek, earning herself a blood curdling glower. "Don't be a crank, Professor. You're not fooling any of us now, we know you're a big soft-hearted hero."

He rolled his eyes. "I can safely say I've never been accused of that before," he drawled wryly.

Over the next few hours, the three students caught him up on everything he had missed while he was unconscious. In careful detail, they started by taking turns carefully explaining how the battle of Hogwarts had been won. They recounted the sacrifices made by Fred Weasley, Remus, Tonks, Colin Creevey and the 50 others who fell. They told of Neville's brave slaying of Nagini, causing Snape's eyebrow to arch in a familiar expression of surprise. Aside from that brief lapse, the professor managed to keep his face set in a faҫade of perfect impassivity. He even managed to contain and outward signs of shock at the story of Harry's death and subsequent resurrection.

"Dumbledore." Snape sighed, his voice deep with sorrow, but tinted with the slightest edge of amusement. "I accused him of keeping you alive just so you could die at the right time, you know." He regarded Harry solemnly. "Which I suppose wasn't entirely untrue."

Harry fidgeted in his chair and ran a large hand through his thick black hair. "He had to keep a lot of secrets. I resented him for it, but in the end I understand."

There was an awkward silence as the four reflected on their former headmaster. Snape broke it with an involuntary dry cough.

"Do you need some water, sir?" Harry asked

Snape nodded and gestured to the empty glass on the side table.

"_Augumenti." _Harry murmured, and the glass filled itself. He brought the vessel to Severus' lips and tried to tip the cool liquid into his mouth. As if repelled by his skin, the water defied gravity and refused to pour towards the awaiting lips.

Snape recoiled in confusion. "What on earth?"

Draco stared in disbelief "Is it because it's magically conjured, 'Mione?" he asked the girl perched on the Potions Master's bed.

Her brows knit together in puzzlement. "I've never seen anything like it before," she replied, shaking her head, "but it must be. We thought that it was only potions and charms that his body was rejecting, but it must be anything magical at all."

Harry raised the glass to his own lips and downed the water in one fluid motion. "It's not the water itself, it seems," he said, staring at the empty glass quizzically.

"I'll go get you some tap water," Draco volunteered, taking the cup from Harry and exiting the room.

"What is this convoluted business about me rejecting magic?" Snape inquired icily."I'd like to know why I'm hooked up to all these barbaric _machines _and _hoses _and being monitored by..._televisions." _He spat the foreign words with disdain, shooting a glare at the various Muggle habiliments that surrounded him, as if they were to blame for his current misfortune.

"We've been trying to figure that out," explained Hermione. "We think it had something to do with the snake venom. I've been working on and off with Nagini's remains. The Ministry asked me to investigate once they realized how you'd been-" she chose her words carefully "-affected." Her warm brown eyes flicked over his sunken face. "I haven't really made much progress," she admitted, "but now that you're awake I'm hoping we can find more leads."

Snape sighed. "Oh, I see they're as sensible as ever," he drawled, "asking a _child _to investigate the remains of a dark creature that once contained the bound soul of the Dark Lord. As usual, their bumbling logic never fails to impress."

Hurt flashed in Hermione's eyes and Snape immediately regretted his harsh words.

"Sir, she's not a child," Harry murmured. "She's twenty-one. By seventeen she had accomplished more than most witches two or three times her age."

_Twenty-one? _Severus deflated slightly. "I'm sorry, Granger. I'm still-"

"I understand," she said, smiling weakly. "I suppose it should be a compliment after you called me old."

Draco had reappeared in the room bearing a glass of water, which he handed to Harry and sat down.

Harry once again raised the glass to his professor's mouth, and this time the contents obeyed the laws of physics and flowed downwards to the awaiting lips.

Severus swallowed the liquid and sighed gratefully. "Thank you, Potter." He heard the weariness creeping into his voice, and remembered what a long day it had truly been.

Harry smiled. "You should rest up, sir," he said quietly. "You need to regain your strength."

Severus nodded his assent, and the three stood up to leave.

"Goodnight, sir," Hermione said, patting his knee gently.

"I'll come by tomorrow." Draco informed him, reaching out to briefly touch the man's shoulder.

"Me too," said Harry. The youth reached out to touch his professor's arm. As his fingers grazed the pallid flesh, a current of energy flowed through them both, causing them each to cry out in surprise.

Snape stared at him, wide-eyed. "What the bloody hell was that, Potter?"

Harry shook his head in bewilderment, rubbing his hands in amazement. "Not sure, sir. Static?"

Severus arched his eyebrow sceptically. "Perhaps."

He tolerated the three for a moment longer as they said their goodbyes, leaving the exhausted man to rest. As his eyes closed, he noticed Draco slip his arm around Harry's waist as they left the room.

_Curious..._he thought, as his mind drifted into a deep, restorative sleep.


	2. Of Dead Snakes

"How is Severus?" Minerva nervously asked the assistant professor before her.

"Better than expected," Hermione replied honestly. "He's awake and lucid, which is astounding in itself, but the fact that he appears to have retained all his mental faculties is just short of miraculous. We never thought this day would come. Well… Harry did. He's the only one who never lost hope." It was a fact that made her feel slightly guilty. She and Draco had been begging Harry to stop spending so much time at the Grangers', and to work on building a new life.

The older witch smiled and placed a ring laden hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Mr. Potter's faith is the only reason we're all still here, my dear; he's never failed us in that regard. How's _he _holding up anyway?" The headmistress sat back down at her desk and motioned for Hermione to take a seat across from her in the large, newly renovated office.

After the war, Hogwarts had been rebuilt with incredible swiftness. Although much of the reconstruction had continued well into the 1998-1999 school year, enough of the building was usable in the September following the war that classes were able to resume. The Ministry had assigned substitute teachers to replace those who had been lost during the fight. Neville, Draco and Hermione had all been granted authority to teach beginner's classes in Herbology, Potions and Transfiguration, respectively, while they worked on their master's certifications. The professors who normally taught those classes were sharing the duties of teaching advanced levels. McGonagall, for instance, had the unenviable duty of teaching advanced potions for the past three years.

"Harry's okay, I think." Hermione sighed wistfully. "I know he's grateful to have a place here at Hogwarts, but I wish he would consider taking that Defense Against the Dark Arts position you offered him. I mean really, there isn't anyone more qualified. It's a terrible waste of talent." The very thought of it made her grit her teeth, but she couldn't blame him really. The fact that he wasn't reduced to a quivering bundle of nerves, or hadn't become the poster child for post-traumatic-stress-disorder was really quite impressive.

Minerva just smiled at Hermione patiently. "My dear, he'll figure it out eventually. He's 20 years old and he's had the weight of the world on his shoulders for half his life. If he wants to dig about in the muck for a while, who are we to argue? Besides, I think the work boots suit him," she smiled slyly. "Draco certainly seems to agree"

Honey brown eyes rolled as Hermione shook her head. "Oh, Professor, don't even get me started on _that._"

Hermione's heels clicked loudly as she strode into her temporary office, which had lovingly been deemed "The Morgue" by Draco and Neville. She couldn't blame them for that one, really; the cold stony room _did _contain the remains of one very large, very dead snake.

_Remains _may have been a strong word. When Neville had decapitated the great beast, it had erupted into a cloud of smoke and vapour. The ministry hadn't been able to find much more than a pile of fine dust and teeth; _that _innocuous-looking pile of sweepings now resided in an array of small bottles that lined Hermione's large oak workbench.

She shrugged out of her robes and hung them over the back of her chair before tying her hair up into a quick ponytail. Donning her apron and gloves, she uncorked one of the bottles of snake-bits and gingerly tapped them into a silver dish. Suppressing a sigh so as not to blow them away, she gathered a quill and cracked open her notes.

Three years she'd been working on this problem. Three gruelling, miserable years. Hermione was sure that Snape's rejection of all things magical had to do with the snake that killed him, but she still couldn't figure out how. Crinkling her nose, she flicked her wand at the dish. "Wingardium Leviosa!" she commanded, and the ashes took flight.

"Well, _you're _not resistant to magic, are you, Nagini?" she mused, tracing patterns in the air with her wand. The silvery dust followed in trails, forming shimmering swirls and billows.

A sudden knock at her office door startled her, causing the spell to break and fragments of dead snake to fly everywhere. Covering her mouth and nose so as not to inhale it, she answered the door.

It was Draco, dressed head to toe in Muggle business-wear. "Bad time, Granger?" he cooed, smirking at the mess on the bench behind her.

"Ungh, Malfoy, you frightened me. Now there's powdered evil scattered about." She gestured to the cloud of dust still lingering in the air.

With a flick of his wand, Draco condensed the mess and bottled it. "You should really be more careful with your dead serpents," he tutted, gliding into her room and gracefully taking a seat on the bench. "How's it coming anyway?"

Hermione thumped her forehead on her desk and started mumbling incoherently to the wood.

Draco rolled his eyes, "I'm sure the workbench is _fascinated _but I doubt it's following along. Chin up, please, I'd like a full report."

"There's _nothing_ new!" she whined, lifting her head and scowling. "I honestly don't know what more I can try. The remains seem to be completely inert. I can manipulate them with magic, I can transfigure them, I can brew them into potions-" she picked up one of the two fangs on the desk, "-and these huge bastards react no differently, either. I'm starting to wonder..." she trailed off, staring at the large tooth in her hand helplessly.

"I still don't see why you're convinced Snape's magic went into that thing, maybe it just disappeared." The handsome blonde shrugged and shook one of the vials of powder, peering at it intently.

"Ungh," she grunted, flapping her hand in an annoyed gesture. "Draco, I've told you, it doesn't work like that. Don't you know anything about physics?"

He snorted derisively, "Science is for Muggles, Hermione. Do I look like a Muggle?"

She raised an eyebrow as she took in his charcoal grey, three button suit and aubergine silk tie. "Actually-"

"I just like tailored things, okay?" he scowled defensively as he smoothed the front of his slim fitting trousers. "Robes do nothing for my physique. Besides, dressing like a Muggle doesn't make me one, you know. I mean after all, _you _dress like a lady, and we all know-" his words were cut off with a quick silencing jinx.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy, were you saying something?" Hermione asked sweetly. His steel grey glare could have rivaled that of a basilisk.

"Now as I was saying," she continued, "although magic is beyond the comprehension of most muggles, there are certain things we know about it. For one thing, magic itself is energy. The laws of physics tell us that energy cannot be created or destroyed, it can only be transferred or transformed from one state to another. We also know that magic can't dissipate into the air, it's transferred directly from one body to the next. Snape's magic _must _have been transferred into Nagini when she bit him."

Draco patiently waited for her to lift the jinx so he could ask a question. "Okay, so let's just say you're right and Nagini somehow gobbled up Snape's magical essence, or whatever. Where would it have gone when she died?"

Hermione's head snapped up so quickly Draco was sure her skull was going to fly off her spine.

"You're fucking brilliant for a little prat, you know that?"

She leapt across the workbench and planted a fierce kiss on his stunned mouth.

"Where the hell are you going?" he called, watching her dash from her office

"To get the Sorting Hat, you git!"

Thick yellow liquid sloshed off the edge of the spoon as he attempted to raise it to his mouth. Jean watched patiently and said nothing.

"I appreciate your attempt to salvage my pride." Severus sighed, allowing the utensil to drop back into the bowl. "Unfortunately, I think I may need your assistance." He grimaced as he said the last words; being an invalid was incredibly trying on his ego.

Jean smiled and sidled up to the chair nearest his head. "Ah, don't worry, pet, you're improving by leaps and bounds."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Pet? I suggest you consider a dog or perhaps even a parrot. One could fetch your paper and the other could recite some poetry."

A soft chuckle escaped Jean's lips as she lifted a spoon to his surly mouth. "There, there, Severus, I'll have you mauling the postman in no time. Now open up. We need to get you fed before the kids get here."

In the week that had passed since he awoke, his former students had been to visit him every day. Draco and Hermione visited a couple of time a week, but Harry had appeared every evening without fail. They tried to catch him up on the various tales he had missed while unconscious.

When not in their company, Snape had been plagued with an overactive mind and infuriatingly useless body. As he laboriously performed the rehabilitative exercised he'd been prescribed, his mind wandered to the stories they told.

They had told him how Draco had become part of the group after the war. Harry's testimony had lead to his acquittal in the Death Eater trials, and Draco had actively tried to pursue a friendship with the young hero.

Snape had also been surprised to learn that the entire Weasley clan had immigrated to Romania after Fred's death. Arthur and Molly had taken up posts with the Romanian branch of the Ministry, and Ron and Ginny were apparently off wrangling dragons or some such nonsense. He wondered how Harry was coping with the absence of the two youngest redheads; one his best friend, and one his former lover.

_Harry._

For some reason the thought of the young Gryffindor always sent a small shiver down Severus' spine. It was really rather disconcerting, when he thought about it. Yet for some reason, Severus found himself anxiously awaiting seven o'clock, the time when young Mr. Potter habitually came crashing through the Grangers' Floo.

Tonight was no exception.

At exactly six-fifty-nine, Severus heard the telltale thump that indicated that a large man-shaped object had stumbled out of the fireplace and crashed onto the floor in the downstairs parlour. The sixteen steady thumps of workboots coming up the stairs made his heart pause, if only briefly.

_What the hell is wrong with me? _Severus thought as he caught himself smoothing his long black hair. _I'm preening like an absolute ponce._

He dropped his hands to his lap and flipped open a magazine in an effort to look busy.

"Good afternoon, Professor," came Harry's cheery voice from the door.

Severus gave him a withering glare from over his reading glasses. "Potter, it's seven o'clock. I believe it is safe to refer to this time of day as 'evening'." He smirked to himself as he noticed a flush creep up the boy's tanned cheeks.

"Well, yes… I suppose. It's still after noon, though, technically-"

"Semantics, Potter, semantics."

Harry plopped himself down in his usual chair, the one nearest his professor's head. Severus noticed the air he stirred up smelled earthy, like grass and moss and rotten wood. He'd grown accustomed to seeing the young man arrive caked in various types of filth, often with the occasional twig or bramble sticking defiantly out of his mussed black hair.

"What on _earth _do you do for a living, Potter? I would have thought the Ministry would be prancing you around like a prized pony all covered in ribbons. Hermione mentioned you work at Hogwarts, but doing what? Has Filch died? Has Hagrid somehow confunded you into assisting with his magical menaces?"

Harry grinned, sheepishly as he peeled off his usual plaid jacket. "That's closer to the truth than you'd think, actually."

"Well you're a right mess." The disdain in Snape's voice did little to disguise the fondness in his eyes, and Harry blushed at the attention.

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Honestly, Potter, would it kill you to bathe? You have filth all over your cheek." Without even thinking, Severus reached a smooth white hand up to rub a questionable smudge off the young wizard's cheek. His hand trembled as he noticed Harry lean in to the fingers that were about the graze his flesh.

_Zap!_

"Ahh!" Snape and Harry recoiled from each other as a shock ran between them.

"What _is _that?" asked Harry, rubbing the now tender spot on his face.

"I'm assuming it's the result of you dragging your feet across the Grangers' carpet like some kind of barbarian," the oily voice replied snidely.

"What about my carpet?" Hermione appeared at the door suddenly, carrying a large satchel.

Snape smiled "Ahh, Miss Granger, I didn't hear you Floo in. Apparently one of you is still able to comport yourself with grace whilst entering and exiting a fireplace. Please, sit down."

Hermione laughed as she noticed the glare on Harry's face. "You _are _rather clumsy, Harry," she chided.

The bespectacled wizard rolled his eyes at his long time friend "Yeah, yeah, whatever. What have you got in the bag?"

Honey brown eyes sparkled with anticipation as she reached her hand into the satchel. "Well, as you know, my theory that Sna - errr - the Professor's powers passed into Nagini has been difficult to prove. I think the issue was that I was convinced that remnants of his magical spirit were somehow trapped in what was left of the snake. But today I had an epiphany! If your powers left you when Nagini tried to kill you, what if your powers flowed out of _her _when Neville chopped off her head?"

Severus recoiled in disgust. "Dare I ask what's in the bag?" he snapped.

"Not what you think; I brought _this_." She victoriously withdrew a lump of musty old felt.

Harry and Severus looked at her with matching sceptical expressions. "The Sorting Hat?" Harry asked.

"No! Well, yes, but it's what's _in _the hat, look! It's the sword of Gryffindor!" Sure enough, the ruby encrusted sword was concealed within the hat, much as the way it was when Neville had found it during the last battle. "I figure the power must have been absorbed by the sword when Neville killed Nagini. I'm hoping that maybe a touch from the sword might transfer it back, Professor."

He regarded her coolly, and nodded his head. "I suppose it's worth a try," he grudgingly admitted.

Carefully, the young girl withdrew the heavy goblin-made weapon from the hat and placed it across Severus' lap.

The three waited with baited breath at the silver sword proceeded to do absolutely nothing.

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Do you feel anything?"

Severus shook his head. "No," he murmured, his expression dubious.

"It must be the sheets, try touching it with your bare skin."

The frail man hesitantly reached for the sword, touching its hilt lightly.

It did nothing.

He traced his fingers across the blade.

Not a flicker.

For five minutes he touched and prodded the cold metal object until he was brimming with frustration.

Severus' heart sank. "It seems you're wrong again, Miss Granger," he whispered, laying his hand across the flat of the blade.

Harry shook his head defiantly. "No, this has to be it!" he growled, reaching for the familiar hilt.

_Zap!_

"Ahhh!" Severus jumped as the same shock travelled through him again. "For the love of Merlin, Harry, are you humping a shag rug when I'm not looking? How can anyone discharge so much static?"

Hermione looked back and forth between the two of them quizzically. "But, there's no carpet in the room." She pointed to hardwood floor.

Harry shrugged and sheathed the sword in the hat again. "I supposed it's just my electric personality?" he joked, lamely.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Potter, quit while you're ahead." He allowed his expression to soften as he added, "As for you, Miss Granger, thank you for your efforts."

She sighed, "Please, sir, call me Hermione."

"Especially because you won't _be '_Miss Granger' in a couple more months, eh 'Mione?" Harry jabbed her in the ribs with his elbow.

Severus' eyes darted to the young lady's left hand, where sure enough, a small diamond ring sparkled in the moonlight. _I cannot believe I missed that, I am shame to anyone who ever was a spy. _He glanced back up at the auburn beauty and managed what he hoped was a small but sincere smile. "Who's the lucky man, Miss Granger?"

"Hermione," she reminded him, "and the young man in question is Neville."

Severus' jaw dropped several inches as he tried to comprehend what she was saying. "Surely you don't mean _Longbottom_?"

Her chin jutted up sharply with an air of defiance and dignity. "And what if I do, sir? You have to admit, he's come a long way. Not only did he kill a giant magic snake, stare down Voldemort and single- handedly kill a plethora of Death Eaters, but he's now an assistant professor."

"And he _is _rather handsome-" mused Harry, who immediately clamped his hand over his mouth and looked at the floor, not noticing the look of surprise Severus shot him.

"Well, yes, that too," grinned Hermione.

Severus stared at Harry for a moment too long before shaking his head and focusing back on the girl in front of him. "Well, good for you, Granger. He does come from an excellent family line, I suppose."

She let out a squeal that was strangely inappropriate for a woman her age. "I know, it's kind of thrilling isn't it? Lucius Malfoy must be turning in his grave to imagine a Pureblood like Neville _breeding _with a Mudblood like me."

Severus felt all the blood rush out of his face, and bile rise in his throat. His hands clutched the white bed linens so hard, Harry swore he heard the threads snapping. "Lucius?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

Harry swore and Hermione blanched. "Oh, gods, you didn't know-"

"Know _what, _Granger?" the professor asked with a voice full of ice. His head was spinning, the room was dissolving in front of him. He closed his eyes in an effort to make the world stop. _Not Lucius..._

"Lucius Malfoy. He was sentenced to Azkaban after the war." Hermione's voice was hesitant, "He committed suicide six months in to his incarceration." She finished in a voice so soft it was barely audible.

Severus' world came crashing down around him as a cry of anguish escaped his lips. Hot tears streamed, unbidden, down his ghostly face. Images of the beautiful blonde man swam before him. Severus pictured his smooth skin, his sharp eyes and his quick smile. Nobody thought the platinum haired Death Eater was capable of a genuine smile, but in their private moments together, Severus had seen it.

A sob escaped his throat as he pictured laying in his lover's arms, his onyx hair twisting against Lucius' stark white.

Severus collapsed on the bed and sobbed into his hands, losing control of his emotions for the first time in decades.

"Professor-" Harry reached for his arm in comfort.

"Don't touch me!" Severus hissed, jerking his arm away. "Don't touch me you self-righteous little prat. This is all your fault!"

"Sir?" Harry's eyes flashed with pain and shock

"No, you don't seem to understand, do you? Well let me explain this in _small _words, Potter: every person I ever loved died because of you. Every. Single. One."

His eyes were full of pure, unbridled hate. "I gave up the best years of my life defending _you, _you ungrateful little shit. I was tortured because of you, I was loathed and despised because of you. I missed my fortieth birthday and the turn of the _fucking _millenium because of _you. _Harry. Fucking. Potter!" he spat the boys name with venom. "I gave up everything for you and you didn't even have the decency to let me die."

Frothy bits of spittle hung to the corners of his mouth as his body shook with pure rage and devastation.

"Get _out_ of my room!"

Potter stared at him in shock. He was floored. "Severus, please," he begged, water pooling in his eyes.

"I said get out of my fucking room Potter, and _don't_ you come back."

Still in shock, Harry pulled himself up from his chair and made his exit.

Severus curled into his pillow and sobbed with abandon. He didn't even notice Hermione leave.

"Harry!" Hermione called, chasing him down the stairs. "Wait, please, I'm sure he didn't mean it... he was shocked."

Harry walked faster, his long legs taking the stairs two at a time. "He meant it," he spat bitterly. "He's always fucking meant it. Snape has never had anything but hatred for me."

Hermione grabbed his arm as he stepped into the Floo, the green flames sweeping them both away.

The two tumbled into Draco's living quarters a split second later, the suddenness of their arrival causing the young man to drop his teacup onto his trouser-clad lap.

"Blimey, you two, ever heard of knocking?" he hissed, standing abruptly.

Draco quickly surveyed the scene; Harry's tear streamed face and Hermione's look of blind panic. "What the fuck happened to you two?"

Harry collapsed on the floor. "Snape just informed me that everyone he ever loved died because of me," he whispered.

Draco stared at him in disbelief before shooting a look at Hermione, who confirmed Harry's story with a discreet nod. "What did he mean?"

Harry looked up at him coldly. "He found out about your father's suicide."

The blonde man paled and dropped back onto his leather sofa. "I see," he whispered.

"Is there something I should know, Draco?"

Malfoy sighed and closed his eyes. "I wasn't going to tell him yet," he said slowly. "Severus was still too weak, I was worried that telling him about my father would..." he trailed off.

Hermione sat on the sofa beside him. "They were friends, it must be hard-"

Harry laughed a mirthless laugh from his seat on the floor. "Hermione, you are awfully dense for such a smart girl. They weren't just friends, were they, Draco?"

Firelight reflected off his platinum locks as the young man shook his head. "No." He took a deep breath. "They were lovers. They had been together for years."

Hermione gasped, "But Draco, your mother...?"

The platinum-haired wizard sighed. "She was my father's best friend, and a very patient woman. She wanted to have a pure blood child, and she loved my father. He loved her, too, in his own way, I suppose. They had an understanding."

His grey eyes flicked up to where Harry sat crumpled on the floor. "Severus never loved another woman after your mother, Harry. She was the only girl he _could _ever love."

Harry dropped his face into his hands, but said nothing.

"Draco, I'm so sorry, I had no idea." Hermione whispered, giving her friend a hug.

He shrugged but accepted her embrace. "Nobody did. Voldemort didn't just have it out for Muggleborns, he also wanted to rid the world of Squibs, cripples, homosexuals, you name it. He wanted to 'cleanse the magic bloodlines' as it were. My father and Severus were very discrete; so discrete, in fact, that I only figured it out when I was fifteen and I stumbled in on them in a compromising situation." He half-smiled, half-cringed at the memory.

Harry snorted. "That's enough to haunt your dreams forever, isn't it mate?"

Draco laughed. "I'm long over it. I can't really judge them, can I? Not with my sexual preferences."

"Or lack thereof," muttered Hermione

The blonde smiled and squeezed her harder. "I prefer to think of myself as sexually flexible, my dear, and if you ever drop that tosser Longbottom I'm willing to show you how flexible I am!" he teased, releasing her ruffling her hair.

She rolled her eyes. "Really, Draco, I don't think now's the time..." she glanced back over to Harry.

Malfoy nodded his head in understanding. "Let me take care of him, you've got a class to teach early in the morning." With that, he tossed a handful of powder into the Floo, said "Granger's quarters," and gently shoved the girl into the green flames.

Sighing, Draco sat down on the ground beside Harry and wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders. "You know, my chesterfield comfortably seats three," he said gently, "there's no need to sit on the floor."

Harry stared blankly at the flames, the tracks of his tears bending the light strangely. "He blames me for everything," he whispered.

Draco slipped one of his long legs around Harry so he was now seated between them. He drew the rugged man back into his chest and rested his chin on top of his head. "Snape's been unconscious for three years," he murmured. "He's woken up to find out he's not only physically crippled, but he's lost his magic and he's lost his lover. It's going to take time to come to terms with these things." He kissed the top of Harry's head gently as he pulled the young man closer to him.

Harry turned his head and pressed it against Draco's chest. "He's not the only one who's lost people," he muttered into Draco's shoulder. "I've lost my mother, my father, my godfather, Dumbledore, my friend‒" a ragged sob caught in his throat. "I've lost fucking everyone."

Draco tilted Harry's head up and stared him in the eye. "You haven't lost me," he promised.

Their lips met with a gentleness that Harry had never expected Malfoy was capable of. His firm bottom lip gently prying Harry's mouth open so his tongue could seek refuge there. The black haired man felt his pulse race as

Draco's large fingers caressed his chest languidly. A soft moan escaped his lips.

Turning around, he pushed the blonde onto the floor and lay on top of him, his calloused hands trying to undo the small refined buttons on Draco's dress shirt. Draco moaned and lifted his hips off the ground, grinding his pelvis up into Harry's, their erections rubbing together needily.

Draco moaned in ecstasy; he'd been waiting for this moment for far too long.

"I love you," he whispered into Harry's mouth.

Harry froze and stared at Draco, wide-eyed "What did you say?" he choked.

The other man's jaw dropped open in a look of horror. "Uh, nothing, forget it, okay?"

Harry shoved himself off the floor and stared down at his friend who had bolted up into a sitting position.

"Harry, wait..." Draco begged, but Harry had already turned and leapt into the Floo.


	3. Perils of Intoxication

Recovery was painfully slow, and Severus was impatient. Months had passed since his embarrassing display of emotion regarding Lucius' death, and Severus had learned to harness his despair and convert it into determination. He used that energy to accomplish the difficult task of rebuilding his body, which was coming along rather nicely, if he did say so himself.

Although he was still thinner than he'd like, there was a healthy amount of lean muscle on his tall frame. The best part was that he was finally able to feed himself and get back and forth to the loo (as it turns out, he'd been right about that catheter removal; it had felt like Jean was trying to pull his bladder through his urethra).

The Grangers had been exceptional hosts and caregivers, and Severus had come to feel something akin to care for them. Grudgingly, he had even allowed them to use their barbaric Muggle practices to straighten and whiten his teeth.

Yet even with Jean's frequent company, Severus was lonely; he had few visitors these days.

Hermione came by once or twice a week to give him updates on her work with Godric's sword, which she was convinced would reveal the mystery behind the professor's lost magic if she could only find the right incantation.

Draco stopped by weekly, but something about the youth had changed and Severus found it to be incredibly unnerving. The boy he had always known to be sharp witted and content seemed distracted more often than not. Something was giving his eyes a strange, hollow look. It was not in Severus' nature to pry, but he often wondered what was happening in the young man's life to make him behave so. His knee-jerk response was to attribute it to the suicide of Lucius, but that didn't seem quite right, since Draco had seemed happy and content when Severus had first awoken. Something must have happened since then.

The pain of Lucius' death was no longer a sharp knife in Severus's stomach, but more like a small constant ache in his chest; uncomfortable, yes, but most days it was bearable. It seemed that now he was mourning the loss of someone else, though he steadfastly attempted to ignore the frequent pang of emptiness that resided within him.

Harry had not been to see him since "the incident". The one time in the boy's life that he had actually listened to his professor and obeyed his orders, and it was the one time said professor didn't really mean it. Well, he had meant it at the time, and in the days following, but as the days stretched into weeks Severus couldn't help but admit to himself that his life had a new hollowness. Every day, he caught himself staring at the clock from six fifty-nine until just after seven, hoping to hear the sound of a young man haphazardly crashing out of the Floo.

It never came.

"Your ride's here." Jean's eyes were filled with tears as she stood at the door of her patient's room "I'm going to miss you, Severus."

Looking up from his seat by the window, the man snorted, "You'll just miss the stipend the Ministry's been providing you for putting up with me."

"A pittance, really considering I've had to tolerate your surly face for so long." She strode into the room and hugged the man, affectionately. With only a moment's hesitation, he returned the embrace.

"Thank you, Jean. For everything." In a moment of alarm, he realized that he must have forgotten a sardonic witticism. Something must be truly wrong with him these days.

She pulled away with tears in her eyes and sniffled, "Well, you have to come visit us you foul thing. The Ministry has agreed to keep us on the Floo Network, even though you're leaving. I expect you for tea, and I shan't take no for an answer."

Severus kissed his friend and caregiver on the cheek in an uncharacteristic display of tenderness. "Wouldn't dream of it, you meddlesome harpy." With that, Severus gathered his few possessions and followed her out of the room to meet his gargantuan chauffeur.

"Professor Snape!" Hagrid gasped, picking the man up and mauling him into a bear hug. Severus could feel giant tears dripping off the louts face and onto the top of his head.

"Merlin, Hagrid, get a grip on yourself," Severus gasped in disgust, attempting to wrench himself from a pair of inhumanly large arms.

The half-giant sheepishly placed the wizard on the floor. "Sorry, Professor, it's just that I haven't seen yer face in three years. I never thought I'd say this, but I might'a missed you. Kind of, anyway."

Severus rolled his eyes "Had I been aware of time passing, perhaps I might have noticed your absence as well," he grumbled, grudgingly. Severus gave Jean a final kiss goodbye and with a parting handshake to her husband, Walter, he stepped out of the Granger residence.

And froze.

"What is _that_ doing here?"

Hagrid's motorbike, complete with sidecar, was parked in the lane outside the front door.

"_Tha'_ is how we're getting back to Hogwarts!" the giant grinned proudly, tossing Severus a shiny black helmet.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger "Surely you jest," he muttered into his hand.

"No, Sir! Since yeh can't travel by Floo, or by apparition, or any other kind of magical means, really, Muggle transport it is."

Severus stared at the black helmet in his hands, his reflection sneering back at him through the high-gloss coating. "You are aware that there are various forms of Muggle transport, too, Hagrid? Trains come to mind. "

The giant grinned "Yeh, but there's no legroom. So quit yer gripin' and in yeh get."

Nine bloody hours he rode in that sidecar. His long limbs ached from being cramped up (_legroom,__indeed)_, although it was the indignity of having a hollowed out billiards-ball on his head that truly made him suffer. Hagrid had tried to keep up a running conversation during the trip, not realizing that both of their voices would be lost on the wind. In the end, Severus contented himself with watching the countryside roll by and allowing himself to get lost in his thoughts.

Returning to Hogwarts had been Minerva's idea, since Severus wasn't versed enough in Muggle affairs to be able to survive outside the Wizarding world. Thinking about his new life made him cringe. What use was he to the school? Even if he taught history or Latin or any other subject that didn't require practical magic skills, he would have no control over the students. Even the most magically inept student would have the upper hand on him, and it was a thought which made him shudder. _Oh,__gods,__I'm__going__to__be__the__next__Argus__Filch;__chasing__students__around__with__a__broom__and__having__questionable__relations__with__a__cat._

Life would be difficult. He couldn't use anything that was made with magic, so robes and conjured food were out of the question. He was going to have to perfect his cooking skills, as he doubted he could get a pizza delivered to his quarters. Even if he could, he wasn't sure he could admit his fondness for such common Muggle fare.

Severus' dungeon door now opened with a large iron key, the magic password system having been removed for obvious reasons. The whole place felt dead, with not a single spark of magic to breathe life into it.

Taking stock of his surroundings, Severus winced as he noticed that boxes of matches were stacked on his desk, a reminder that he couldn't light his lamps with the normal flick of his wand. His shoulders slumped under the weight of his new reality. It was all utterly devastating.

McGonagall placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We'll find the answer, Severus. I promise. Hermione is a very clever girl. In the meantime, we've got systems in place to make sure you can get everything you need by non-magical means. The house elves will be preparing your food by hand, and laundering your linens non-magically." She looked him up and down and pursed her lips, "I suppose we'll have to find appropriate robes for you as well."

Severus turned to face the mirror above the fireplace. It had felt like an eternity since he had worn his old garments, but this foreign garb still felt wrong. Draco, who had a fetish for Muggle fashion, had picked out and purchased what few items of clothing Severus owned. Today he was dressed in a tailored, black two piece suit with a black dress shirt. Although the outfit was flattering, and of a suitable colour, it was fundamentally wrong. The man in the mirror frowned and fingered his sleeve "Not nearly enough buttons," he muttered.

He broke eye contact with his reflection and searched the room for the liquor cabinet. "Please tell me you've stocked my room with some whisky..."

Harry's glasses were pushed onto the top of his head to allow him to rub his eyes with reckless abandon. "It's not like that, Hermione."

"What's it like then?" she asked, curiously

Trying to explain the nuances of his relationship with Draco was like trying to explain potion-making to a squirrel. It didn't matter what words he chose, the true meaning would never really be conveyed properly, and then he'd have to question his sanity.

He never should have kissed Malfoy.

There was a time when Harry had been disgusted with the frequency in which Draco took lovers. The boy seemed to have no preference; male or female, wizard or Muggle, human or magical being. Draco Malfoy oozed raw sexuality from every pore, if he even had pores. That boy had an irritatingly perfect complexion.

Initially, Harry had thought that perhaps he was just a trophy that Draco was trying to collect, like he would get some kind of plaque that said "I shagged the Boy Who Lived". Harry never acquiesced. As time wore on, it became more and more obvious that the platinum blonde might be interested in more than Harry's arse.

Sighing, the young man adjusted his glasses, "Look, he's a good friend, one of my best mates by far. Yes, I find him incredibly attractive, but I just can't... picture beingwith him." Flushing, he corrected himself "Well, I mean, I can picture, you know... _being_ with him, but not having a relationship with him, or anything." Absently, he started picking at a piece of grass that was stuck in the hem of his shirt.

Hermione looked puzzled and disappointed "I don't understand why, honestly, I know you care for him. You could be good together."

He shot her a glare from behind his rectangular lenses, "I care for you, too, Hermione, that doesn't mean I want to shag you or anything. No offense of course."

They were lounging in Hermione's sitting room, as they were wont to do in the evenings. Harry was stretched across her sofa, nursing a Butterbeer while his host had curled up in an adjacent armchair. She laughed and slapped his grubby arm fondly, "Neville would be relieved to hear that, I assure you." Her honey brown eyes softened as she searched his face "I think you'd be good together, though, you and Draco. He really fancies you."

Dark eyelashes fluttered as Harry closed his eyes "That's the problem, 'Mione. He loves me. It wouldn't be fair for me to get involved with him knowing full well that I don't, and won't, love him back."

"At least, not while you're in love with someone else," she said softly, her honey eyes locking on his.

Harry's stomach dropped like it was full of stones. "I don't_love_ anyone," he muttered, picking at the stray piece of grass again and successfully avoiding her gaze.

"Don't lie to me, Potter, and don't you dare start lying to yourself." Her voice was firm, and she had called him by his surname. Not good.

Harry shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, suddenly feeling like he was being psychoanalyzed. He was sure Hermione was going to turn into some bald Freudian caricature with a notepad and an Austrian accent any moment. He nearly smiled to himself at the thought. "Let's change the topic now, shall we?" he begged.

Hermione, still very much a woman with a full head of hair, shook her head. "We're not changing the topic, Harry. I can't sit here and watch my best friends carry on in such a state. Draco loves you, and you can't love him back because you're still pining for someone else." She leaned forward and clasped his hand dramatically. "He's here you know. He arrived today."

She didn't have to say his name, they both knew the greasy dungeon bat to whom she referred.

Harry's green eyes sparkled momentarily before darkening with anger and hurt. "He also told me he never wanted to see me again, and that I had ruined his life and killed everyone he loved. How fucking romantic is _that_?"

"He didn't mean it," she whispered

Harry stood up and fixed her with a cold stare "Then he shouldn't have said it, should he? He certainly hasn't come requesting I accept his apology."

"You know he's too proud for that, Harry. It doesn't mean he doesn't care for you. He-" she stopped abruptly.

Harry caught the hesitation and looked at her keenly, "He what?"

"It's nothing, Harry. Just something my mother mentioned. I shouldn't say." She bit her lip apprehensively.

"Don't string me along, Granger, I don't have the patience for it tonight," Harry growled.

She sighed and stared at the floor. "He waited for you," she mumbled.

"What? When?" His heart began to beat erratically, the traitorous four chambered vessel.

"Every day. He watched the clock every day, around seven, like he was waiting for something." A pained look crossed her soft features. "My mother said she was sure he was waiting for you." She watched as Harry's face transitioned from an initial look of shock, to an unyielding stony expression.

His voice escaped his throat in a low growl, "I guess he's going to be waiting a long time, isn't he?"

It's amazing what three years of not drinking does for one's alcohol tolerance. Apparently, it completely obliterates it.

Severus stumbled his way down the halls of Hogwarts, trying to remember the way outside. "Hagrid!" he called down the stony hallways, "I want to go for a ride on your blasted motorbike!". The gargoyle that had suddenly appeared in front of him shifted in and out of focus, making a variety of wretched faces at him.

"Don't judge me!" Severus commanded the inanimate stone object "I've had wretched day."

He stumbled, barely managing to catch himself before face-planting into the rough stone floor. He needed to get outside, where the ground would be more yielding should it decide to become acquainted with his face.

A cool breeze seemed to lure him in the right direction, and eventually he found himself standing outside the castle walls, bathed in moonlight. Severus wasn't sure which way he was facing, and he couldn't remember exactly where Hagrid's house was at the moment either.

Cupping his pale hands around his mouth, he called into the night. "Haaa-ggrriiiddddd," he slurred "I demand you take me on your motorbike! I will even wear that poncey helmet". He giggled to himself and began to walk around the exterior of the castle.

Severus hadn't really meant to drink as much as he did, admittedly; just a couple of fingers of whisky to take the edge off his mood. Unfortunately, his mood was foul to the extent that nearly a whole bottle had been required to take said edge off it. _It__was__absolutely__necessary,_ he assured himself.

After eons of walking, the dark haired man rounded a corner and saw a familiar hut in the distance. Or was that two huts? Severus frowned in confusion, then stared at his hands and started to count his fingers. There were ten of them (he had counted twice to make sure), but there were still two huts. It was perplexing, this alcohol; it muddled his building counting ability but left his finger counting ability fully intact. _This__Muggle__elixir__is__a__dangerous__substance._

He hummed to himself as he made his way across the field to one of the modest cottages. The air was incredibly intoxicating tonight; it smelled of earth, moss and rotten wood. Severus pointed his crooked nose in the air, allowing his nostrils to flare and take in more scent. It was familiar, somehow; comforting and arousing all at once.

_Harry__._

This is what Harry smelled like. Harry smelled like wet earth and moss and rotten wood. He smelled like a hard day's work and soap and all manner of delicious manly things. A memory of a strong hand, calloused from work, made him sigh longingly.

He really shouldn't have fucked things up so badly.

As he lumbered along, the dewy grass made way to what looked like a small field. Rows and rows of carefully tended plants ran the length of the small plot of land. Perplexed, Severus dropped to his knees and ran the tender leaf of a sprout through his elegant fingers. _Dittany?_ He looked across the tidy rows in amazement. Fluxweed, dandelion, goosegrass - they were all potions ingredients.

Severus stood and clumsily brushed off his knees, peering around himself in befuddlement.

Warm light seeped from the window in the cottage before him. Making his way over as stealthily as a man with his blood alcohol level could, he peered inside the building.

His breath caught in his throat.

A tall, well built young man was standing in the middle of the cottage, peering into a cauldron that sat on a roughly hewn table. His large, strong hands carefully stirred the contents of the vessel as he murmured something to himself.

It was Harry.

Severus's heart suddenly took residence in his throat and the world around him spun just a little bit more than it had a moment ago. Harry looked beautiful. His thick black locks hung haphazardly in his face, the occasional strand covering his liquid green eyes. He was dressed in well fitting jeans and a snug cotton shirt of which he had pushed up the sleeves. The fire under his cauldron cast warm orange light onto his face, reflecting off the wetness of his lips.

He was gorgeous.

Severus held his breath as he watched Harry pick up a knife and finely slice the leaves of a plant, his hands moving in quick, graceful movements as he executed his cuts with perfection. Scooping up the pieces, Harry dropped them in the cauldron, smiling in satisfaction as the liquid emitted a light blue smoke.

The potions master gasped in astonishment; there was no way Harry Potter was capable of doing what he had just witnessed.

Drunkenly, he stumbled around to the front of the cottage and flung the door open.

"Wolfsbane?" he cried.

Surprised by the sudden intrusion, Harry cried out and stumbled backwards, his wand drawn. Recognition flickered over his face and his body language relaxed, but the young wizard's face remained wary.

"What the hell are you doing here, Severus?" he demanded, angrily, "It's damned near three in the morning!"

It wasn't _that_ late, was it? Severus considered it for a moment before turning his attention back to his former pupil. "I don't know what time it is, but I know this must be a dream," he slurred, "because there is no way in HELL Harry Potter could have suddenly become proficient in potions."

Harry's eyes narrowed as he observed the older man in his doorway. "You're drunk," he finally announced, flatly.

Severus laughed, a sound that would have probably been described as a giggle had it been formed by anyone else, but Severus Severus certainly did not giggle.

"No. Yes. Maybe. Doesn't matter. What DOES matter is that I just saw you make Wolfsbane, and that's a distinct impossibility. Nobody can brew that but me. Well, not anymore-" he garbled, "but I used to be able to, and you couldn't. And now - what's with all the plants, Potter?" His bloodshot eyes rested on the seedlings that Harry had sprouting on his windowsills.

"You should go to bed, Sir." Harry said softly.

Weaving in place, Severus snapped his attention back on Harry, his bloodshot eyes roving his body approvingly. "Perhaps." He lurched forward, a pale hand reaching for the young man in front of him. "Would you like to join me, Mister Potter?" he purred, suggestively.

Harry shrunk away from him in revulsion. "Are you fucking serious?" The incredulity in his voice was unmistakeable.

Severus nodded vigorously, "Quite, I assure you." He smirked.

"This is coming from the same man who told me a couple weeks ago that he never wanted to see me again and that I should have let him die? That I ruined his life and killed everyone he loved?" Harry's eyes blazed with anger.

"I still stand by that second part, I think." Severus cocked his head to the side as if to consider what he had just said. "Maybe not. Maybe I didn't mean that." With unsteady steps, he continued to make his way across the hard earth floor.

Harry took another step backwards, his back against the wall. He regarded the drunk man coolly. "Get out of my house, Snape." His large hand gripped his wand menacingly as Severus took a final step towards him, his hand raised to stroke his cheek.

"I want to kiss you, Harry. I want to make it all better." His whisky-tainted breath was hot against Harry's face, revolting and alluring all at once. "I shouldn't have said those things I did. I was just mad because they were all dead. Everyone was dead. Lucius was dead, and Lily was dead. Lucius and Lily. Luily. Lucily? Lilius?" he rambled on quietly, his voice low and oily.

He stared into the boy's deep green eyes hungrily, wetting his lips. Slowly, he closed the last few inches between them, his mouth fractions of an inch away from Harry's as he murmured, "But you, Harry, you'd never understand, would you?"

A brief shock ran through his body as a strong fist connected with his jaw, and everything went black.

Harry arrived at Draco's door looking utterly haggard and rubbing his right wrist.

The platinum blonde stared at him in disbelief, shaking his head as if to dislodge the fog of sleep from his brain.

"Harry, it's 3am, what are you doing here? Are you okay?"

Harry's eyes were on fire, his jaw clenched in determination, "Are you alone?" he asked, his voice thick.

Draco swallowed hard. "Well, yes-"

Harry lunged at him. "Then I'm just fine," he growled, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him into a forceful kiss.

_A/N Thank-you to symphonatika for the first beta of chapters 1&2, and to Methorael Raina for also beta reading 1&2, as well as chapter 3. MR is also the only reason this chapter is up; I wasn't feeling confident enough to post it, but a little encouragement was all I needed. Thanks!_


	4. Painful Trysts

_Warning: There is about to be some fairly rough sex, and it is a non-Harry/Severus pairing. If that upsets you in anyway, skip to below the break and continue on._

Draco cried out in astonishment as his mouth was assaulted by Harry's lips and tongue; the force of the encounter causing him to stumble back into his rooms and trip backwards onto the sofa. Harry was on him like a werewolf on a rabbit; all wild eyes and gnashing teeth.

Draco was terrified.

He didn't even have time to process what was happening. Large hands were tearing at his hair, forcing his face into Harry's, while an urgent tongue pried his lips apart. He could feel strong legs pinning him to the sofa, rendering him utterly incapable of breaking free. Harry growled fiercely and pulled his hands out of Draco's platinum locks just long enough to start frantically tugging at his own clothes. He seized his earth smeared t-shirt by the hem and pulled it over his dark head, revealing a chest that was toned and browned from hard outdoor labour.

In a moment of panic, Draco grabbed Potter's hands and wrestled them to his sides. "Harry-" he began, uncertainly. His heart was pounding. Grey eyes searched green as Draco sought to understand exactly what had gotten in to the other man.

Harry's mouth hung open slightly as his breaths came fast and heavy.

"Do you want me?" The question was uttered in a low, savage tone as the predator sized up his prey.

Draco stared at his friend in disbelief, a thousand questions running through his testosterone-addled mind. The need to know why Harry was there, why he suddenly wanted him, was all washed away as the other man's erection dug into his thigh.

With a groan of abandon he answered Harry with a savage bite to the neck.

The tryst was a blur of tangled limbs and naked flesh, of lips and tongues and teeth. Draco was unused to submission but relented to Harry's command eagerly as the dark haired man exerted his control. Strong hands bruised his pale flesh as Harry grabbed him by the hips and flipped him over, forcing Draco's stomach into the back of the leather sofa. Harry grunted as he forced Draco's legs open, settling himself roughly between his lean thighs. Bronzed flesh pressed against porcelain as Harry wrapped an arm around Draco's neck, settling the elegant throat into the crook of his elbow, roughly.

The blonde felt Harry slick something on himself before plunging his thick cock into the tight arse in front of him, with no preparation other than the hastily applied lube.

Draco's breath escaped him as a sharp hiss as he tried to ignore the pain.

It was blinding.

His body tried desperately to accommodate the huge prick that had been so forcefully shoved into it, but it was difficult, and Harry wasn't exactly being gentle about it. Slowly, his body relented and his muscles relaxed, allowing the thick cock to slide in and out of it more easily. He moaned in pleasure as the pain began to subside.

Harry's wordless grunts and groans rushed into Draco's ear, causing gooseflesh to rise on his scalp. He gasped in delirious ecstasy as Harry's warm, firm hand reached around his lover and manually coaxed him to his finish. Draco could tell Harry was close, as the arm around his slender neck began to tighten discernibly. Gasping, he lost himself in the raw power of the man behind him, whimpering with every rough thrust and stroke.

Draco's vision exploded into a burst of light as he let out a final cry and expelled himself on the back of the sofa, Harry following suit with a savage groan. The arm around his neck slackened as Harry collapsed onto him, his sweat slicked chest heaving against Draco's pale back.

They lay there, draped across the sofa panting in unison as they fought to regain their breath.

Draco looked over his shoulder at the man behind him, a myriad of expressions contorting his flushed face.

Harry froze as the haze of euphoria dimmed and faded away. He looked down at the sweat-slicked, bruised body of his friend and swore.

"Merlin, Draco, I'm so sorry," he mumbled, releasing the lithe form that was pinned underneath him. Sitting back, he took stock of the innumerable contusions that marred the perfectly pale skin of his companion and grimaced in sympathy and embarrassment.

Draco cringed and turned over, seating himself carefully on the damp leather. His steel-grey eyes scrutinized Harry from beneath a sweat-soaked fringe as Draco chose his next words carefully. "So, are you going to tell me what that was?" he asked softly.

Harry looked down at his trembling hands and slowly turned them over, as if somehow the lines that snaked across his palm held the answer. They didn't. He exhaled slowly, searching for words.

Draco laughed quietly to himself, shaking his head as he gazed at the fire absently. "I know you think it was a mistake, Harry, so no need to explain I suppose." He rubbed at his throat gingerly, wondering if Harry had managed to leave a bruise.

"I had a rough night-" Harry began lamely.

"And the solution to a rough night is to knock on your mate's door at three in the morning and defile him on the sofa, is it?" The firelight shimmered on Draco's damp skin as he stood up and made to find his discarded shorts. After locating them on the mantle, he pulled them on and headed to the kitchenette, where he procured two snifters of brandy. Handing one to Harry, he sat back down on the couch and waited expectantly.

Mumbling his thanks, Harry took a sip of the amber liquid, allowing it to warm his insides which suddenly felt frozen solid. He looked at Draco apologetically, "I'm sorry, Draco. I completely took advantage of you." Grimacing, he reached out and traced a bruise on the blonde man's shoulder.

Draco shrugged and took a sip of his drink. "A standing prick's got no conscience. I could have closed the door on you, or simply not answered in the first place, Harry." He paused and allowed a cruel smirk to cross his lips. "Or I could have transfigured your prick off, but I didn't."

"Thanks for that," Harry chuckled, managing a weak smile.

They sat in intimate silence.

Someone was crocheting his insides into a Christmas jumper, it was the only possible explanation for the way Severus felt. His head was reeling and light had somehow obtained the ability to puncture his skull, leaving spaces for all the horribless to get in. Severus groaned in disgust as the smell of raw meat invaded his nostrils and he realized he had part of a dead animal on his face. He turned his head to the left as his stomach began to retch, but he had nothing to regurgitate except bitter yellow bile.

_Frailty, thy name is Severus._

He moaned in revulsion as a bloody steak fell off his face into the puddle of vomit; he nearly puked_ again_ when a large dog came into his field of vision and attempted to steal the chunk of soiled meat.

"Fang, don' you dare!" bellowed Hagrid.

_Why is Hagrid here? Where in the blazes am I?_

Forcing his reluctant eyelids open, Severus stared into the large bearded face looming over him. He shielded his eyes with his hands and squinted as the sun's evil rays penetrated his vision. Peering around, he recognized the collection of large furniture and rough wooden walls.

_Perplexing. _"Hagrid, why am I in your cottage? Furthermore, why is Miss Granger in your cottage?" Hermione was standing beside the worn, overstuffed chair Severus was found himself draped across. She thrust a mug of steaming liquid into his trembling hands.

"Ginger tea," she explained, "I can't give you a Pepper-Up potion, but this might take the edge off your hangover."

Severus' brow furrowed in confusion as he took the mug of spicy, translucent tea, doubting very much that his traitorous stomach would accept the offering. "Hangover. Indeed, I seem to recall having a drink or two last night."

From his seat across the room, Hagrid roared with laughter, slapping his large thigh merrily. "_A_ drink? From what I hear, you were stumbling yer way down the corridors at the wee hours, making conversation with gargoyles."

That sounded frighteningly familiar.

He glanced back and forth from Hagrid to Hermione "Perhaps I may have...overindulged. Why am I here and why can't I open my eye?" He had just realized that his left eye seemed to be painfully swollen.

"Hagrid found you on the floor of Harry's cottage this morning with a hell of a shiner," Hermione explained, pouring herself and the half-giant each a cup of the ginger tea. "It appears that you and Harry may have had an altercation."

Severus's good eye went wide with alarm. Frantically, he scoured his memory for any recollection of the event. He remembered the infernal gargoyle and a desperate urge to ride a motorbike. Ahh, yes, that was the reason he had come out to see Hagrid, wasn't it? It seemed to be. He tried to patch together the random fragments of memories that were hiding in his foggy brain.

" Merlin, I have no idea." he said, truthfully. "I barely remember leaving the castle." His stomach lurched, but this time Severus was pretty sure that it wasn't a result of the previous night's immoderation. What could he have said to the boy that nearly made him break his eye socket?

He swallowed the aromatic tea, cursing to himself inwardly.

The walk back to the castle was painful in a variety of ways. He'd never been one for sunlight, really, and this morning reminded him why. In the bright light of day, his previous evening's adventure just seemed that much more humiliating. Thankfully, it was Saturday, and the empty halls assured him that no-one would bear witness to his walk of shame.

He followed Hermione down the halls of the castle, still desperately seeking information about the previous night's encounter with a certain former Gryffindor. Flimsy memories of enraged green eyes flashed through his mind, but he couldn't remember any further details.

Hermione's voice jerked him out of his moment of confusion and self-loathing.

"There's Harry," she hissed.

Severus's head snapped to attention as he looked down the hall. Sure enough, the Gryffindor in question was ahead of them, seemingly leaving one of the teachers' residences. Severus squinted his good eye for a better look. The sight halted Severus in his tracks as if his boots were riveted to the floor. Harry looked incredibly dishevelled; his hair was a mess, his clothes crooked and one of his boots was untied. Beside him stood a similarly unkempt Draco who was seeing Harry off with an overly friendly hug.

They looked freshly shagged.

Suddenly aware of the intruders in the hallway, Draco and Harry both looked up suddenly. Even from this distance, Severus could see Harry blanch. His green eyes flicked up to the angry black bruise that covered nearly half of Severus' face, and he rubbed his knuckles reflexively.

The two stood at an impasse, neither sure who should make the first move, or where that move should be. Severus was keenly aware that both Draco and Hermione were watching the tableau raptly; he could sense they were both holding their breaths.

_Fuck it._

If there was one thing Severus was not willing to sacrifice any more of, it was his pride. He stormed away from the clandestine lovers, dragging Granger by the arm.

"Hey!" Hermione cried in protest, "I thought you wanted to talk to him? You don't even know what happened last night!" She ran down the hall, struggling to keep up with the long strides of her infuriated professor.

The rubber soles of Severus' boots made no sound on the slate floor as he stormed to her office. "It's doesn't matter what happened last night, Granger. It seems dear Mr. Draco was able to kiss it all better" he spat, acidly. The thought made bile rise into his throat for what felt like the hundredth time today.

Hermione jerked back, throwing the large man off balance. "You're being ridiculous, Severus!"

"Professor," he corrected with a trademark snarl, drawing himself up to his full height and glaring down his crooked nose at the girl.

Hermione stared right back at him, unflinching. "Right now you're not a professor, you're just a hungover arsehole who's leaping to conclusions like some kind of jealous, teenage girl. Now sit DOWN!"

Her tone was so absolutely furious that Severus found himself dutifully plopping onto a chair in her office. He shirked away from the girl as if the rage emanating from her might scorch his flesh. With the alcohol still lurking in his bloodstream, it was more probable that he'd burst into flames

"You know, I have a new hypothesis about where your magic may have gone," she began, watching as he perked up slightly in his seat. "...but you'll not hear it until we hash this ridiculous mess out."

She smirked at his vain attempt to fix her with his most withering glare.

Tone clipped and professional, Hermione continued her self-righteous, utterly condescending diatribe. "You and Harry need to get the hell over this nonsense. It's a tremendous waste of everybody's time and frankly, I don't have the energy to deal with either of you. Nor does anyone else, I'm sure. You're both being utterly ridiculous." She flapped her hands in exasperation, "Frankly, you owe Harry an apology. _He_ owes_ you_ the opportunity to offer said apology. This is not going to happen if you suffer a juvenile outburst every time you see him in the hall."

The corners of Severus' mouth twitched as they began to twist into his familiar sneer.

"Don't even think about sneering at me." she glared.

He rolled his eyes instead. "I believe that the evidence of last night's transgressions indicates that Mister Potter should be apologizing to_ me_." Severus attempted to speak with conviction, but the words dripped out of his lips lamely and landed in an unconvincing pile of drivel. _How embarrassing._

Hermione fixed him with a steely glare that he found surprisingly intimidating, but said nothing.

"Gods, Granger, what would you have me do? I can't apologize to him; I don't even know what happened. If you could manage to scrape the remnants of my powers off of whatever dead reptile you've got squirreled away, perhaps I could use legilimency to figure it out, but as it stands I'm as likely able to see into his testosterone-addled mind as I am to don a tu-tu and perform the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy". He scoffed at the thought.

Hermione peered at him questioningly. "Severus, my 'scraping up' your magic isn't going to help you there; you can't use Legilimency on Harry. He'd just Occlude you."

Severus laughed, a rich full deep laugh, for the first time in weeks. Wiping a tear from an onyx eyes, he glanced up at the puzzled girl with a derisive smirk. "Granger, you never fail to amuse me. You and I both know that Harry Potter couldn't Occlude a gerbil. "

Composing himself again, he curiously noted the expression of realization that crept across her youthful features.

"Oh, I suppose nobody told you that, either, did they?" she said evenly.

The things that people had forgotten to tell Severus could fill Gringotts, it seems. "Tell me _what_, Granger?" he asked with annoyance.

The bushy haired-girl regarded him calmly. "Harry's become a master Occlumens".

Time stopped briefly as the ridiculous words hung in the air between them. Finally Severus spoke. "Impossible," he scoffed, turning to pick lint off his cuff as if bored with this inane conversation. It _was_ utterly asinine; Severus had once purged the depths of the boys mind as if he were approximately as profound as a disposable kiddie pool. Perhaps even one that was half empty.

Hermione shrugged and turned to look at her work, obviously unconcerned with her ability to convince him. She sighed, but with a small, quick smile gracing her lips, "Well, you'll see for yourself at some point, I'm sure. I have another lead on your little problem."

Looking up from the lint on his sleeve, Severus raised one perfectly arched brow. "Oh?"

Smugly, Hermione grinned at her crusty former professor. "Well, if the sword didn't pan out, we can only assume that your magic was conducted into the closest thing to it when Nagini was slain."

Severus's jaw dropped with an audible pop as he made the connection.

"You aren't seriously suggesting that my powers were absorbed by _Longbottom?"_


	5. Shocking Revelations

A/N: This chapter needs a rating of 18A (NC-17 in the States) for graphic smut. Mature audiences only, please.

A large parcel wrapped in brown paper and twine awaited Severus upon his return to his rooms. Out of habit, he reached for his wand to inspect the mysterious package for curses or spells. Of course, his wand wasn't there, and even if it had been he would have been incapable of using it.

"Blast." He muttered in frustration. Once again, he'd forgotten, despite the fact he'd been awake for over four months, and without his magic for infinitely longer. Being back in Hogwarts sometimes caused him to forget his current unfortunate circumstances, which only made it all the more painful when something as innocent as a paper-wrapped parcel brought him crashing back into reality.

Severus picked up the package and resisted the urge to tear the wrapping off violently, opting instead to neatly fold back the paper and set it aside. He traced his long, white fingers over the shop name embossed in the cardboard box, _Margaret Chen Custom Clothiers_. The name seemed suspiciously Muggle (although, realistically, he _had_ taught a Cho Chang, and that wasn't a particularly Wizardly name, was it?).

Slowly lifting the lid off the box, his eyes studied the neatly folded length of cloth that had been cautiously wrapped in white tissue.

It was an exact replica of his teaching robes.

Pulling the silky, black garment from its box, Severus inspected it carefully. There were exactly fourteen buttons up the front, and twelve up each forearm. The seams were double stitched, just as he liked, and the collar stood rigid and high. Whoever had ordered these robes had obviously gone to great pains to make sure they were as close to the original as possible.

Rubbing the soft wool between his thumb and forefinger, Severus pondered the possible origins of his (admittedly) thoughtful gift. It was the sort of thing Albus would do, but last he'd checked, dead men didn't give gifts.

Severus peered in the box for some kind of clue, and found nothing but a single piece of cardstock in the bottom of the box. In neat, feminine script read the instructions 'Extra billowy, as per instruction' and a price of £200.

Although he rarely had occasion to spend Muggle currency, Severus was keenly aware that £200 was an exorbitant amount to pay for a garment. He absently wondered if the seamstress had added a surcharge per button.

Shucking his Muggle garb, he slipped into the cool, familiar embrace of the loose fabric, allowing himself a small indulgent sigh as the luxurious cloth slid down his torso and brushed against his bare thighs.

He was just admiring his familiar old look when he heard a loud knock on his chamber door. The sound startled him; he still wasn't used to hearing a knock before the familiar shudder of his wards. Grudgingly, he strode over the door to manually open it.

A hand slapped across his face with enough force to cause Severus to stumble back into his chambers.

Fighting the back the look of shock that threatened to grace his usually composed features, Severus calmly righted himself and dusted off his new clothes.

"Really, Malfoy? An open-handed slap? How very Hufflepuff." He sneered at his assailant and refused to raise his hand to touch the stinging flesh of his cheek.

Draco strode in after him, "You are a selfish prick, you know that, Sir?" he spat, staring the older man down fearlessly.

Severus returned the stare coldly, "Be that as it may, I'd remind you not to address your professor in such a way, Mister Malfoy. Fifty points from Slytherin."

The blonde's face contorted into a mirthless sneer, "I'm a Prof here, too now, Sev," he purred, "Teaching _your _ old subject, in case you'd forgotten. You can't take any points from me, I graduated years ago."

The reminder hit Severus like a bucket of ice water to the face. He was, for once, lost for words.

With a flick of his wrist, Draco summoned a wingback chair to slide up behind Severus, knocking his knees and forcing him to fall gracelessly onto the worn leather upholstery with a loud 'oompf'. Severus stared straight ahead, refusing to look up to the man who was still just a child in his mind.

"Now," Draco continued, "I think it's time we had a little talk about what's going on here." His voice was steady, but Severus could hear the cold rage that burned just beneath his stony exterior.

"There's nothing going on, Draco."

The blonde snorted derisively, "Keep telling yourself that, Severus." He conjured a chair for himself and sat down gracefully. "Nobody here is going to pretend to know what you're going through right now. You've been through an incredibly traumatic experience, and now you're stuck here with no magic, no potions, and no war to fight. You have, essentially, lost everything you know; with the exception of some of the staff and the more charming members of the class of 1998, of course." He smirked as Severus fixed him with a scowl.

"-be that as it may," Draco continued, a little more softly than before, "My sympathy, which had been wearing rather thin, has now officially run out. You cannot keep behaving like an insolent child, and hurting people in the process."

"I'm not insolent," Severus grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest.

Draco stared at him quizzically.

Severus dropped his arms.

"You _are_ insolent, and many more far less flattering adjectives I can think of. You've been an utter tosser to all the people who've done nothing but try to help you. Especially Harry." The name escaped Draco's mouth at a volume barely higher than a whisper.

Severus snorted, "I'm sorry, have you come here to defend your_ boyfriend_? Can the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Shag-The-Malfoy-Heir not stand up for himself?" His cock twitched involuntarily even as his stomach churned at the thought of Potter's short but muscular body wrapped around the long, lithe form of the Slytherin sitting before him. Well, standing before him, now, as Draco stood up with enough force to knock over his chair.

"Listen to me, Snape," he spat, "You have no idea what Harry Potter has done for you. You don't even know who he _is._ Let me enlighten you: Harry Potter saved your sorry arse. He pulled your broken body from the Shrieking Shack, he got you medical treatment. When you were laying in a coma, he came to see you every day. Every. Fucking. Day. Even on the days he spent twelve or more hours fighting to get the Wizengamot to exonerate you. How did you repay him? By accusing him of causing the death of everyone you've ever loved, while so blindly ignoring the fact that he's lost _infinitely _more than _you._"

Moisture gathered in the corners of Draco's eyes, but whether they were borne of sadness of rage, Severus couldn't be sure. His heart dropped into his stomach with an almost audible thud.

"Draco, I-" he began.

"You fucking destroyed him, Snape." Draco informed him coldly. "I don't even think you know how much damage you've done. After all he's done for you! You treat him so poorly, and then drunkenly attempt to seduce him?"

Flashes of the previous night came back to Severus with startling clarity. He closed his eyes in an effort to banish the images from his brain, and held his breath to prevent the groan of horror that was threatening to make itself known.

"I didn't ask him to do anything for me," Severus murmured.

"You didn't have to."

"Then why-"

Draco dropped to his knees, gathering Severus' cool hands in his own. Too startled by the gesture to react, Severus just stared at him in disbelief.

"You ask yourself why anyone would sit at someone's bedside for a thousand days, Severus, and then you tell me." The boy's eyes were sorrowful.

Severus shook his head slightly, in utter confusion, "But I saw him, and you... this morning." He was utterly perplexed. Draco couldn't possibly be insinuating what he thought, could he? There was no way the Potter boy felt anything more than professional courtesy for him, the greasy Death Eater twenty years his senior.

Draco released his hands and stood up slowly. "You don't know what _you_ saw," he whispered, "but I can tell you what_ I_ saw. I saw a man so betrayed by the person he cares about that he lost his mind, just for a minute. "

He stood and made his way to Severus' door. "I'll be on my way, now, Professor. I just have one more question for you-"

Severus nodded, dumbstruck.

A sad smirk crossed Draco's face, "Have you ever fucked someone who can't even look you in the eye while they're doing it? And you know, deep down, that they can't look at you because then they'll have to admit that you're not who they really want?"

The older man shook his head slowly.

Draco's mouth twisted into an oddly sad smile. "I have."

He swept from the room and closed the heavy wooden door behind him, leaving one very confused Potions Master to ponder alone in his chambers, stroking the hem of his brand-new robes.

Neat rows of carefully-tended plants swayed slightly in the breeze as Severus slowly walked up the dirt path that lead to Potter's cottage. The walk seemed much longer when he was sober and it was light outside, but perhaps it merely seemed to take an eternity due to the sense of foreboding that weighed heavily in his chest.

His boots made knocking sounds on the lumber stairs as he walked up to the front door, took a deep breath, and rapped his knuckles on the knotted wood.

He was surprised when Longbottom answered the door. The now-disturbingly handsome wizard smiled broadly at Severus and gestured for him to come inside.

"Hullo, Professor," he said with a confident grin (and oddly enough, without a stutter), "'Mione and I were just chatting with Harry about your little condition."

Severus watched as Hermione and Harry shot each other glances from across the small cottage, and he hesitated on the front step.

"Perhaps I should come at a better time-"

"No time like the present." Longbottom said, cheerfully ushering him inside. "Nice robes, by the way. I thought you couldn't wear Wizarding clothes?"

Severus absently rubbed one of the tiny buttons on his sleeve, "They were in my room when I arrived today. A gift, apparently, commissioned from a Muggle tailor." He stood self-consciously, suddenly aware of the three pairs of scrutinizing eyes in the room.

"Well they're dashing, anyway. Don't you think, Harry? Hermione?"

Harry cast a quick glance his way and smirked, his eyes full of some emotion that Severus couldn't quite place. "They're lovely, Professor. Look just like your old self in them."

Nodding stiffly, Severus muttered his thanks and continued to stand awkwardly in the doorway. "I was hoping you might have a moment, Potter, but I see you have company."

A flicker of interest flashed across Harry's otherwise stoic face, "Well, I shan't be asking my guests to leave, so whatever you have to say, you can say in front of them."

"Harry-" Hermione began to object.

"Fine." The word was out before Severus had even thought it. Surprised with himself, he paused before continuing, "Pott-Harry... I wanted to apologize for my behaviour. It has been brought to my attention that I may have treated you more than a little unfairly, and I would like to make amends."

Potter's snort could be heard a mile away. "A _little_ unfairly?"

Severus stood his ground as the young man crossed the floor of the cottage to stand in front of him. Despite the fact that he was still a solid six inches taller than the boy, Severus had never felt quite so small. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but did not look away from Harry's surreally green eyes.

"Perhaps more than a little," he admitted.

Harry's face was now a mere four inches from his own, and the young man's breath was hot against Severus' neck.

"Damn right, more than a little." Harry spat, "Do I really mean that little to you, Severus? So little that you think you can just treat me like absolute shite?"

"I know you did a lot for me-"

He cut Severus off, "Fuck what I did or didn't do for you, Sir. I'm just pissed you haven't realized _why_ I did it."

There was a crackle of energy in the room, a build-up of some kind of electricity. Severus could almost feel tiny sparks bouncing back and forth between them, causing the tiniest hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

With a sudden shock of energy, Harry's lips were on his, hot, dry and needy. Severus froze in place, riveted to the spot as if struck by lightning. Through his closed eyelids, he could see a bright blue glow of light start to build around them and pulse in an erratic and frantic pattern.

When he was finally able to move his arms, he placed his hands on Harry's shoulders and shoved the boy away.

The light flashed and was gone.

The two men stood at the centre of the room, staring at each other breathlessly with distinctly different looks of shock on their faces. Harry's was shock and awe, while Severus' seemed to be more of shock and horror.

Neither man heard Neville whisper to Hermione from their place of refuge under the kitchen table, "I guess we know who really absorbed Snape's powers now, eh 'Mione?"

It made sense. Merlin help him, it made horrible, horrible sense.

Severus was sitting in his old classroom staring in disbelief at the diagram Hermione had drawn on the chalkboard. Harry, Draco and Neville all occupied the desks around him and were regarding the drawings with similar expressions of incredulity.

It was possible, in fact there was really no other explanation for the strange reaction that had occurred between he and Potter during The Kiss. Harry had his powers, and he must have absorbed through Voldemort , instead of through Nagini directly. Braving a look across the classroom, Severus caught Potter looking at him.

And smiling.

That ridiculously lop-sided grin cause an unfamiliar feeling in Severus' stomach, while simultaneously causing a much more familiar twitch in his cock.

He was doomed.

Lost in thought as he was, he had completely stopped paying attention to Granger's inane ramblings at the front of the classroom.

"I don't know how I didn't put it all together before. I mean honestly, how does someone become adept at Potions and Occlumency essentially overnight?" Hermione mused, pacing excitedly back and forth across the front of the room.

"I still can't convince you it was extra studying, can I?" quipped Potter.

Hermione rolled her honey-coloured eyes but smiled in good humour. "That's beside the point, I suppose. We know where his magic went, now we just need to get it back to its rightful owner."

Draco laughed, "What does Harry have to do, snog it back into him?"

Hermione paused.

Severus slid lower in his seat, cursing himself for his inability to conjure a Notice-Me-Not charm at that very moment.

"Well-" Hermione blushed, despite an obvious effort to stay professional. "I don't know if snogging's going to be quite enough actually. I think they may need to engage in something a little more... intimate."

He could feel Harry's eyes on him as Severus silently begged the floor to open and swallow him up. Sliding as gracefully as he could from his seat, he stood up and excused himself to his chambers, his new robes disguising the unsteadiness in his gait.

He'd barely had time to sit down before the expected knock on his chamber door informed him that the meddlesome brat had no intention of leaving him alone. Making himself comfortable on the sofa, Severus pointedly ignored the rapping and cracked open a bottle of Jameson.

His chamber door swung open.

"That was locked, Potter." He grumbled, angrily.

Harry sighed and re-holstered his wand, "Sorry, Sir, but politeness had to take a back seat to practicality."

"Get out."

"Not until we talk about this."

"Nothing to talk about, Potter."

Harry strode into the room and made himself comfortable in a chair, the same chair Draco had sat in before handing Severus his arse that morning. _I really must dispose of that particular piece of furniture, _he mused to himself.

After taking a deep breath, Harry finally spoke. "Look, I know this is hard, Sir. I do. I also know that you have absolutely no interest in me...but I'm willing to do whatever needs to be done to get you back to your old self again."

"Noble Gryffindor," Severus sneered.

"You can stop with that bollocks, sir. My house affiliation has nothing to do with this." He paused, running his fingers through his impossibly messy mop of black hair. "It could be worse, you know. We could have to sacrifice a virgin or cut off a limb or something, this is just... well, it's just a shag, innit? I know you probably don't care, but I think I'm decent enough at the whole shagging thing. So I've been told, anyway." He grinned impishly, even as a blush rose and coloured his cheeks.

Knocking back the glass of Jameson, Severus desperately attempted to ignore the feeling of arousal that was creeping over him. He certainly made a point of ignoring how good Harry looked lit by firelight, or how the dark purple of his sweater enhanced the green in his eyes. While he was at it, he ignored the way that sweater was stretched slightly across his muscular chest, accenting his firm build and lean belly.

"Do you really switch partners that frequently, Potter? Do you not care for Mr. Malfoy's feelings in the matter?"

Harry slipped his fingers under his glasses so he could rub his eyes for a moment before replying. "That was a mistake. Draco and I aren't... _involved." _

"I find it laughable that your generation can construe having their cock up someone's arse as 'not involved'."

"Look, it was a mistake. He and I both know it. He knows how I feel... about you"

A painful pause hung between them as Harry cast his eyes up to meet Severus', the older man looking away as quickly as his pride would allow.

"I think you should leave, Potter." He said firmly.

"You don't have to like me, Severus. You don't have to think anything of it at all, we'll just do what we need to do to get you your powers back, and then I'll leave. I just go." A combination of sadness and resignation tinged the Harry's voice as he spoke, running his fingers through his unruly mop of hair.

Severus' reply was but a single word.

"No."

Harry's hand leaft his head and dropped down to his side, where it balled into a fist. "Do you really hate me that much, that you can't fuck me to get your own magic back?" he hissed, "Am I so appalling that you'd rather live as a Muggle, than be intimate with me?" The bitter words spilled from his mouth and hit Severus right in the gut.

An unfamiliar combination of panic and sorrow washed over Severus as he watched the young man make to exit the room.

The words nearly caught in his throat.

"If I hated you- if I despised you – it would be easy." He softly told the boy's back.

Harry stopped but didn't turn around, "What exactly do you mean?"

Severus said nothing.

The silence stretched on for what seemed like an eternity, until finally Harry managed to choke out a few more words. "Severus, please..."

"Do you need me to spell it out, Potter?" he spat rising from his chair and crossing the room with three long strides. He grabbed the boy's shoulders and spun him around roughly, his black eyes flashing with rage as he towered over him.

Unflinching, Harry met his gaze evenly, and cocked his head just ever so slightly to the left. "No, Sir," he breathed, "you don't."

Severus wasn't sure why he was allowing it, how he could possibly condone letting Harry's rough, work-hardened hand push his hair back. He couldn't explain for a second why he didn't recoil from his grasp at the strong fingers snaked themselves through his locks and yanked him forwards.

And he certainly couldn't explain why he let Harry Bloody Potter kiss him. Again.

The now familiar rush of electricity passed between them as Harry's soft but firm lips pressed against his. Those delectably rough hands were in Severus' hair, pulling him closer so he couldn't escape the tongue that was now violating his mouth.

His cock flared to life, thickening and swelling with a need he'd refused to acknowledge over these past few months. Breaking free from his momentary enchantment, Severus growled and returned the kiss fiercely.

They stumbled their way across the room, tearing clothing off each other with hands that were clumsy and shaking with need. Severus winced as he accidentally slammed Potter into the doorframe leading to the bedchamber, offering more tongue by way of apology.

Harry didn't seem to mind. Nor did he seem mind when Severus slammed him down on the large, firm bed and peeled off his t-shirt, tossing it dangerously close to the fire. Harry kicked off his trainers and began to pull at Severus' clothing, tearing off a few of the buttons which rained onto the stone floor with tiny pinging noises.

Severus pulled his mouth away from Harry's for just long enough to mutter, "My new robes-" wistfully.

"Don't worry, I can get Margaret to patch them up for you. She owes me a favour." Harry replied, forcefully pulling the length of black fabric off his lover's body.

Severus stared at him in surprise. "You-?"

Harry grinned, "What's a dungeon bat without wings?"

"Prat," Severus snarled, and ravaged his mouth once again.

Neither of them noticed the blue light that began to accumulate in the room and Severus ran his tongue down the length of Harry's labour-toned body, tracing a line across the taut plains of his chest and stomach until finally following the trail of dark hair that ran down to his groin.

Harry moaned with desire, clutching the bedclothes in both fists as he thrust his hips towards the lips that were slowly dragging themselves across his erect cock, leaving a faint trail of moisture in their wake.

Severus looked up the length of the young body pinned beneath him, smirked, and took the cock into his mouth. Harry moaned as Severus bobbed up and down on his length, deftly caressing the underside with the point of his tongue. His long fingers wrapped around Harry's hips, pinning the man to the bed for fear his violent thrusts might break Severus' nose.

"Please-" Harry begged, throwing his head back and arching his spine.

Severus adjusted his angle and opened his throat, taking in Harry in his entirety. When his thin lips hit the boys groin, he flicked his tongue out and let it dart against the wrinkled flesh of his sac.

A scream wrenched itself from Harry's throat, "You're not... are... you- are you tonguing my balls _and _ sucking my cock?"

Severus chuckled, a low deep rumble that sent vibrations spiralling through his victim's body. Harry arched up into him and climaxed, shuddering as Severus collected his seed greedily.

The blue light continued to illuminate the room, flickering and pulsing like a racing heartbeat.

Without giving Harry a change to recover, Severus wrenched the young man's shaking thighs apart and exposed his wrinkly pink target. Reaching into his mouth, Severus scooped out the come he'd collected and smeared it in the crease before slathering it on himself.

"Tell me to stop," he growled, poising the head of his prick at Harry's quivering entrance.

"Never," moaned Harry.

Severus pushed.

Harry gasped.

The light pulsed more brightly, swirling about their entwined bodies like a thick, glowing mist.

Severus grit his teeth to stop himself from climaxing with the first, perfect thrust into Harry's tight body. The young man's face was contorted into an expression of sublime pain, which slowly morphed into something more akin to pleasure.

Rocking his hips slowly at first, Severus quickly lost control and began thrusting frantically as Harry's legs encircled his waist. Harry's strong fingers were digging into Severus' back as he desperately tried to pull the man closer, so his sweat-slicked belly might rub against Harry's renewed erection.

The sound of the two hard bodies slapping together was nearly drowned out by Severus' savage grunts and Harry's loud moans. Leaning forward, Severus sank his teeth into Harry's bronzed shoulder, eliciting a pained cry from the man's mouth, and a hot spurt of come on his belly.

Harry's climax took Severus over the edge, and he stiffened and jerked before spewing his own load into the heaving body beneath him.

The light exploded, whiting out the room, as both men collapsed into unconsciousness.


	6. Epilogue

Severus and Harry sat on the crest of the hill, casually sipping champagne as the rest of the wedding party danced in the waning sunlight. Their fingers intertwined, comfortably holding each other as if they had been together for a lifetime already.

Hermione's curls had been restrained into a soft knot at the nape of her neck, which swayed and bobbed as she laughed and twirled around the conjured dance floor with her new husband. Neville (whom Severus had grudgingly grown to like) beamed with pride at his new wife. The love in their eyes was unmistakeable.

"Do you think we'll ever have that?" Harry mused aloud, twirling the stem of his champagne flute absently.

"An exorbitantly overpriced ceremony and a plethora of weeping witches in silly frocks? I should certainly hope not," Severus snorted derisively, the curvature of his mouth betraying his true emotions.

Harry gently shoved his shoulder into his companion, ignoring the slosh of sparkling wine that dribbled over the rim of his glass and down his fingers.

"Bollocks," he chided, "You're as big a softie as the rest of them, aren't you Sev?"

"Ten points from Gryffindor for alcohol-induced sentimentality."

Harry dropped the glass in favour of punching the older wizard's shoulder. "Oi! _You're_ the one who gave_ me_ the engagement ring!"

"Touché," Severus conceded, raising Harry's hand to admire the finely wrought band of silver that encircled his finacé's fourth finger.

Months ago, if anyone had asked Severus Snape if he could picture being engaged to Harry Potter, he would have hexed them into the next century for even suggesting such a ridiculous idea. The fact that he was now perched on the crest of a hill holding the ring-clad hand of The Boy Who Lived was surely a testament to the fact that stranger things had happened.

The light on the festivities began to dim as the sun slowly began to dip below the horizon.

"_Niteo," _Severus murmured, flicking his wand lightly and causing a multitude of tiny stars to collect around the swathes of white organza that bordered the pavilion and shed shimmering light on the dancers.

Harry grinned, "You know you're fucking sexy when you do stuff like that, yeah?". He leaned over and nipped at Severus' earlobe.

"You just want me for my wand," Severus muttered.

"Certainly not for your heart, you prickly old git," Harry smiled, wrapping his arms around Severus' neck and drawing him into a deep kiss.

They heard a groan behind them, "Oh, can't you two lay off for one day? It's not _your_ wedding!" Neville attempted to scowl at the two but only managed to pull off a distorted looking grin.

Hermione slapped his arse playfully, "Shut it, Mr. Longbottom, or I'll annul you."

"You wouldn't dare, Mrs. Longbottom." Neville's affection nearly dripped off his face.

Severus made quiet gagging noises from behind his hand and was reprimanded with a quick slap to the back of his head from his own husband-to-be.

The new Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom plopped themselves unceremoniously on the hillside and proceeded to watch the whirling witches and wizards below.

"I think everyone's having a lovely time," Hermione mused, resting her chin in her hands.

Neville snorted, "Draco certainly seems to be." He nodded to the dance floor, where Draco seemed to be escorting a very drunk (and very handsy) Viktor Krum into the refreshment tent, whilst somehow simultaneously snogging a waitress. Casting a quick glance up to the two couples on the hill, Draco smirked, tipped an imaginary hat, and pinched Viktor`s arse before dragging his two conquests into the privacy of the tent.

"I see he's still utterly destroyed by your rejection," Severus murmured to Harry with a smirk.

Harry laughed, "Does anything really ever phase Draco Malfoy?

As the wedding wound down, Hermione and Neville took their leave, and other guests began to clear out.

Harry managed to drag his grudging fiancé down the hill to the newly abandoned dance floor, where he rested his hands on the older man's shoulders and allowed him to lead in a slow shuffle.

The soles of their shoes made no sound as they turned in time to the music that floated softly around them.

"You're quiet all of a sudden," Severus remarked, whispering the words into his young lover's dishevelled hair.

Harry buried his nose in Severus' chest, breathing in the scent of his freshly laundered robes before responding.

"I'm reflecting, I suppose," he murmured into the silky folds of cloth, "Sometimes it just amazes me that we're here. After everything..." his words trailed off into barely a whisper.

Memories of the previous months flooded them both, from the moment of Severus' awakening, their friendship, their hardships, and eventually, their glorious exchange of power. The two wizards could now touch each other freely, and the only shock either of them received was the delicious shudder of lust and desire.

Severus smirked, "It has been a rather interesting series of events, I suppose."

Harry lifted his head to meet his partner's warm, inky gaze.

"I do have some regrets, though-" Harry began, chewing his lip.

Severus froze at the admission. This was it. Harry was going to call off the wedding. He had finally come to his senses and realized that he didn't want to chain himself to a snarky old git for the rest of his natural life.

He closed his eyes slowly and awaited the inevitable, only opening them when he felt a small box pressed into his palm. Startled, he looked down at the small green package adorned with silver ribbon before arcing his eyebrow in confusion.

"Your regrets come gift-wrapped?" He turned the small box over slowly in hesitant wonder.

Harry smiled, softly, "No, Severus, but their solution does." Gently, he picked up Severus' other hand and placed it on top of the box, sandwiching it in between the two sets of ivory fingers. "Go on," he whispered.

Severus pulled the silver ribbon, watching as the shimmering loops unfurled themselves. He pulled at the green paper slowly, as if the box it was covering contained some terrible surprise.

The box itself was a small, worn wooden cube. Its antique brass hinges creaked reluctantly as he opened the lid and stared at the contents inside.

An old silver wristwatch lay in the box, its lid lovingly polished until all traces of tarnish were removed. Carefully, Severus removed it from its bed of faded red velvet and turned it over in his hands. His reflection peered back at him, large nose further distorted in the convex metal, as he opened the casing and read the inscription that had recently been engraved inside.

_To my love, Severus,_

_Happy 40__th__ Birthday_

_-Harry_

Bewildered, Severus looked down into the face of his fiancé and frowned in confusion.

"Harry, it's June, my birthday is in January. Not to mention, my fortieth year passed while I was unconscious."

Harry smiled and turned the dial on the watch slowly, turning it back two times.

It was only at that moment that Severus noticed the numerals on the face indicated dates, not times. He gasped at the sudden realization that the device he had just held was a time-turner.

"Harry...?"

"My regrets," the young wizard said, beaming, "are that you missed so very much while you were sleeping. Your fortieth birthday, the turn of the millennia, the chance to say goodbye to an old friend." His eyes shone slightly as he looked back up to his lover, "I want you to get the chance to have all of those things."

Grasping Harry's shoulders, Severus looked into the young face searchingly, "But you've already seen all these things, Harry, I couldn't ask you to go through it all again. All that time-"

His words were swallowed into the soft kiss brushed his lips. Breaking away, Harry whispered, "It's only a thousand days, Severus. You know I'd be willing to give you even more."

Severus snorted softly in amusement, "Provided I do you the small favour of remaining conscious this time?"

Harry grinned and planted another sweet kiss on his lips, "It's the least you could do, I suppose."

They wrapped their arms around each other as the time turner ticked and swept them both away.

-fin

A/N: Thanks to all the readers who have patiently followed along from the beginning. This chapter has not been beta-read, therefore all mistakes are my own.


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